A Different Path
by Zelda1
Summary: An alternate version of the third season. Pinned down at the end of "Crossfire," Liam, Augur, and Doors are rescued by two mysterious strangers. Are they there to help the Resistance or do they have their own agendas? Read to find out; review to get more!
1. Help Wanted

Copyright 1999, Zelda. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reposted in part or in full without written permission.

Disclaimer: _Earth: Final Conflict_ and all its characters are the property of Tribune Entertainment and are used without permission. Jarod is the property of the Centre, aka NBC Television, and is also used without permission. However, I do promise to put everyone neatly away when I am done playing with them. "Beautiful Stranger" is by Madonna.

Rating: PG-13

Help Wanted

an Earth: Final Conflict story

By: Zelda

__

Note: This story does involve a cross-over with the NBC series The Pretender (now unfortunately canceled). You don't need to have watched the show to understand the action; the characters I've borrowed are here for cameos, except for Jarod, and I think he explains himself pretty well when he gets the chance. This story is set just after "Crossfire," the second season finale of E:FC. The first three chapters were originally published on [_http://www.kaarpaaj.com/_][1]_, which holds many treasures. You should visit!_

***

__

"But I am even more disturbed to find out that my own father, Jonathan Doors, instigated the entire plot…"

Emma Weston stood, shock-still, in the middle of the sidewalk. While normally on Fifth Avenue her immobility would have guaranteed a problem, currently the whole city of New York was frozen in place, mesmerized by the drama that was unfolding on vid screens everywhere. A few astonished whispers were passing through the crowd but it wasn't until the broadcast ended that the crowd's volume level rose sharply. Though Emma wasn't paying real attention to what they were saying, the words sunk in nonetheless…

"How could he have done that?"

It didn't really seem to matter whose side you were on; the question was equally valid. And it suited Emma precisely. _How could he have done that_, she wailed to herself, _and not told me!_ She dug her global out of her purse, forcefully dialed the number, and waited for the connection. The screen shifted to her carrier's default. "We're sorry," the pleasant recording stated, "but this number is not in service." Emma slammed the global shut. Now she was starting to get angry. _He knew I wouldn't approve, that jerk. Well, if he thinks being in a another city with no global means he won't get a piece of my mind…_ Emma turned. She had to get to the portal station and catch the next 'flight' to Washington. 

Because if Joshua Doors thought that he could exclude her from something this big…he had another think coming.

***

Several hours later, Emma emerged from the portal station in Washington, D.C. In the end, she'd had to bully the New York portal staff into letting her travel to Washington, flashing her press pass and dropping as many important names as she could illegitimately lay claim to. She saw, in the faces of those around her, the same dismay and fear that she herself was feeling. President Thompson's declaration of martial law wasn't just unexpected, it was…unthinkable. _Although apparently not to the President_, she mused wryly. In Washington, the Taelon presence was even more visible than in New York. Through the wall of glass that made up one side of the portal station, she could see several well-organized groups of people in Volunteer uniforms run by. As she exited the station, one of them spotted her and trotted over. 

"Could I see some identification please?" The question, while phrased courteously, was obviously a demand. 

Emma regarded the young man blankly. The Volunteer suppressed a sigh. Everyone was responding this way to him. He could only hope that Lieutenant Jessop was correct, and shortly people would realize that Taelon rule was definitely the best thing for the planet. "Your identification?" he reminded the blonde woman standing in front of him.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Emma made the appearance of being jolted out of deep thought. How dare this juvenile pimply-faced heavily armed thug…oh yeah, that was how…weaponry. "Here you go, Sir," and she smiled winningly at the Volunteer. He ostentatiously checked her driver's license and press pass. 

"You live in town, ma'am?' Emma nodded. "Then I'd suggest getting home as quickly as possible. These streets aren't safe for civilians." She rolled her eyes as he returned to his squad. 

"Come on, Lavell, get a move on," yelled one of the Volunteers. "We've got a bead on some Resistance scum! Do you wanna miss all the fun?" The young man shook his head and redoubled his pace. For a brief moment, Emma's desire to confront Joshua warred with her reporter's instinct to follow a story, but, as always, the story won. She took after the squad of Volunteers, maintaining a discreet distance.

Ten blocks later, the group came to a halt outside a tall apartment tower. Emma sidled closer. Overhead, a helicopter made a slow descent, its spotlight casting back and forth across the apartment windows. The new arrivals dispersed around the building and prepared to enter. Without warning, the guns on the helicopter came alive and the glass high above rained down on the street. The Volunteers charged into the building, guns at the ready. Emma moved out of the shadows. As she stepped into the light, someone ran past her towards the building, grabbing her arm and dragging her along with him.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, hauling back on her arm to free herself.

"Emma, I don't have much time. I need your help. Come on," said the stranger, and she realized that it was no stranger at all.

"Jarod?" she asked in disbelief.

The tall, dark-haired man holding her arm looked at her with exasperation. "Emma. Help. Now." He pulled her into the building. Emma's decision was instantaneous. This had to be large, if Jarod were here. They were in a stairwell, lit only by emergency lighting. No Volunteers were in sight, but Emma could hear them, a few floors above, and then -- weapons fire? Jarod's head lifted at the sound, and he charged up the stairs, pulling a gun out of his coat pocket. Emma followed. As they rounded the fourth-floor landing, Jarod aimed, fired and green light brought down three Volunteers in quick succession. "Come on, this way," he gestured down the stairs to the three men huddled on the landing just above them. 

"Jarod, man, am I glad to see you!" said the dark-skinned member of the trio. "But we've got casualties here."

Jarod leaned forward and grasped the speaker's hand. "It's good to see you too, Augur. Emma, come on, this is what I need your help for." Emma helped Jarod lift the injured man, slipping her arm around his shoulders. His head tilted back and she nearly dropped him as she recognized Jonathan Doors. 

Augur offered his arm to the last member of the threesome. "Liam?" he asked gently. Emma nearly dropped Doors a second time as she realized that Major Liam Kincaid, Companion Protector to Da'an, was the third member of the group. Kincaid seemed dazed, though uninjured. Jarod quickly directed Augur to help Emma with Doors, while he supported Kincaid. "Down," he commanded. 

They rattled down the stairs as quickly as they could manage, down past where Jarod and Emma had come in, down into the sub-basement of the building. Jarod looked around for a moment, then seemed to find what he was searching for. The building shook over their heads as the Volunteers continued their search. Jarod propped the Major up against a convenient post and kicked open a door. Emma couldn't see anything beyond but blackness. Jarod gestured, "In we go."

Augur moved forward; Emma had no choice but to keep up with him. The five entered the darkness. Jarod again propped the dazed Kincaid up against a wall a few feet inside the tunnel. 

"Can you hold him for a minute?" Augur asked Emma. Without waiting for an answer, he dropped Doors's arm and went over to Kincaid. Jarod, back at the doorway, pulled his gun, surveyed the basement room's roof clinically and fired. With a tremendous roar, the ceiling collapsed. They stood in total darkness.

"Where are we?" asked Emma, determined to regain some control of her life. Jarod's voice was somewhat distracted as he answered her. 

"We're in a service -- there you are -- a service tunnel that accesses the sewer system." A light came on and illuminated Jarod's face. He glanced back at the doorway, playing the flashlight across the now-blocked entrance. "That ought to hold them," he said with evident satisfaction. Augur finished his quiet conversation with Liam and returned to carry his portion of the Doors burden. 

"But why are we in the sewers?" Emma persisted, as Jarod continued to search out the emergency lighting controls.

"It's a very good place to hide. And it's the fastest way to Augur's place. Besides, I like tunnels." A huge grin spread across Jarod's face. Emma simply shook her head. She knew that expression of old. The grin faded, however, as Doors groaned and shifted in her arms. Within seconds, Jarod was probing the old man's injuries.

"We were caught in that blast. He got the worst of it," Augur offered. "There's equipment back at my place, but I don't know how we're going to get a doctor down there to treat him." 

"You won't need to get anyone down there," Emma stated. "You've got a perfectly good doctor right here." Augur looked at her in surprise. "Not me. Him." She gestured impatiently towards Jarod with her free arm.

"He's a doctor?"

"I am today, apparently," answered Jarod with just a hint of frustration. "He's got broken ribs, and there's probably internal bleeding. I'd prefer not to move him, but that guarantees he'll be dead. I need to bandage his chest, to stabilize the broken ribs." Jarod assessed the little group. "Emma?" 

"Mmm?" 

"I need your shirt." 

"But, but, it's silk!" 

"I need bandages, Emma, and you have a jacket and your coat to keep you warm after that." 

Emma sighed. He was right, but she hated to lose her new silk turtleneck. Unceremoniously dumping the injured man's arm, she pulled the turtleneck out of her waistband, then slid her arms out of the shirt's arms, promptly reinserting each one back into the warm suit jacket and light coat. Buttoning up the jacket, and silently praising the Gods of Fashion for this year's higher necklines, she then pulled the shirt over her head and gave it to Jarod. He quickly ripped it to pieces, two of which he passed to her. "Kincaid's hands are burned," he explained. 

Emma opened her mouth to retaliate that she was not a nurse, but thought better of it. "Is there any ointment?" Jarod shook his head, and continued wrapping the remains of her turtleneck around Jonathan Doors. She went over to Kincaid. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing raggedly. "Major?" she asked. There was no response. "Major Kincaid?" Still nothing. "Liam?" Slowly, green eyes drifted open and focused on her. "Emma. Emma Weston. What are you doing here?" 

"Your hands, they're…" Emma's voice trailed off as Liam raised his hands as if just remembering that they even existed. Both palms were horribly burnt, the deepest burn in the center of the palm. "I have bandages." She took his hand and began wrapping the scrap of turtleneck around it. 

"I tried to stop the fire." Emma glanced up from her wrapping. Liam was looking at his free hand. "I tried but it was too much. I couldn't hold it back," he continued in a dreamy voice. "And when we got out, I had to stop them from catching us." Emma knotted the bandage on the first hand and gently took the other one. It was obvious that Kincaid was in shock from his injury. "But I don't have control yet. How can anyone understand his own soul?"

Emma tied the last knot in the second bandage, to find Jarod looking over her shoulder. "Good work," he commented. "Let's move out."

***

They had been moving through the tunnels for what seemed like hours, as far as Emma's arms were concerned. And despite her near-perfect memory, she couldn't have retraced their steps any further than the last few turnings. _It's that awful smell_, she decided. _Although I think the worst thing is that I don't even really smell it anymore…_ She glanced at Augur, across Doors' dangling head. He too seemed beaten down.

"Do you know how much further?" she asked him. Augur exhaled sharply.

"I wish I did, but I don't usually travel through the sewers. I prefer more commodious methods of transportation, thank you." Augur looked ahead to check on Jarod and Liam. He was starting to worry about his friend; the longer they were in the tunnels, the weaker Liam was becoming. On the other hand, the faster they got home, the sooner Liam could be checked out. "So," began Augur, "how do you know our friend Jarod here?"

"Jarod?" repeated Emma, wondering how best to distill her relationship with Jarod. "Well, we first met, I guess it was five years ago, in New York. I'd just started at the Post, and Jarod was assigned as my editor. He'd come to find out the truth behind one particular article; I'd done some of the research for the story. I think he suspected me at first, but then he realized I didn't know what he needed. In the end, I helped him get what he wanted. We've been trading favours ever since." Emma finished nonchalantly. "Now you."

"Me? We've…done business."

"That's not what I meant." Emma's curiosity could restrain itself no longer. "What the hell is going on here? Last I heard, Jonathan Doors was official public enemy number one, but here we are carrying him through the scenic subterranean sewers of Washington along with Da'an's protector. I can't imagine that Jarod's thinking of giving Doors to the Taelons, so why are we bringing a Companion Protector along for the ride? Is he supposed to be some kind of hostage? And what happened to his hands?" 

"Slow down!" Augur held up his free hand. "That's too many questions to answer all at once_." How long can I stall her?_ he wondered, flashing back to that instant in the apartment when all three of them had believed it was, finally, over. Liam was pleading with Lili over the global, Doors was calmly sipping a whiskey, when blinding light stabbed into their hiding place. "We have trouble," he'd shouted. Lame ass. Liam had turned towards the window, Doors was rising out of his chair as the window shattered, forced inward by the billowing explosion behind. He'd been prepared to die, and shocked to find that it wasn't happening, and when he opened his eyes…Liam, gritting his teeth with the strain, was holding back the entire blast with his shaqarava. "Augur, I can't," he'd gasped, and the fire came at them, overwhelming his friend. He'd shoved the other two into the hallway where they'd found the Volunteers waiting. How many of them had fallen in the first flash from Liam's palms, he couldn't even say. 

But he would never forget the sound of Liam's screams as the shaqarava flared again and again, seemingly beyond his control.

"Liam isn't a hostage, Emma," stated Jarod from ahead. "He's the leader of the Resistance. Please don't drop Mr. Doors, Augur, Emma. Those bandages didn't tie themselves."

***

Emma collapsed with relief on the plush sofa, sighed deeply and took her first real look around Augur's place. She knew they were somewhere under the city, but it could as easily have been another planet. The main cavern had been sectioned into rooms by steel and Plexiglas dividers; in one of those rooms, Jarod was examining Doors's injuries more closely, with the aid of some device Emma knew she had no hope of recognizing. Liam had been placed in another room, and would be next in line for Jarod's medical attention. She took a second look at one of the many paintings hung around the cavern. "Oh my…Is that…?" she said without thinking. 

Augur dropped onto the sofa beside her. "It certainly is," he replied with pride. "So, do you want to tell me the truth about Jarod?"

"Do you want to tell me the truth about Major Kincaid?" she responded.

"Touché," Augur bared his teeth in what might have passed for a smile among tigers. "Why don't you show me yours, and I'll show you mine."

Emma dropped her eyes, considering. "Jarod's story isn't mine to tell."

"That's too bad, cause I'm betting it's very interesting." Augur looked intently at Emma.

"So, is he or isn't he?" she pressed.

"What? The leader of the Resistance? You didn't show me yours." Emma focused her best glare on Augur, with little apparent effect.

"It would explain this whole mess," she realized. "Of course he'd have to come and rescue Doors. But the way that Joshua described it, Doors never really left the Resistance, so why would they need a new leader?"

"Joshua!" snorted Augur. "Don't get me started on Joshua Doors. He set us up -- planting information about a Taelon plot to kill his father, then turning around and selling out the same Resistance team he'd begged for help. And then he goes on national television, claiming his own father was responsible."

Emma got up, shaking her head. "No. I don't believe you. That's impossible. Joshua's not like that. He wouldn't."

"He did. Bragged about it to his old man, even. He said it was payback." Augur's voice was edged with anger.

"Then Doors is lying. I know Joshua -- I've known him since college. He just wouldn't do that."

"He would and he did," snapped Augur. "And I have a lot of friends who are suffering right now because of him." With that, he sprung off the couch and stalked over to the central computer console.

Emma shook her head one last time. What was she doing here? _Damn you, Jarod_, she thought, and reflected ruefully that this was not the first time she'd had that thought_. I don't even like Jonathan Doors? the way he treated Joshua!_ A line from an old song drifted through her head. _'If I was smart then I'd run away/But I'm not so I guess I'll stay/Haven't you heard?/I fell in love with a beautiful stranger…'_ Could Joshua have brought down his father, and along with him, the entire American republic? She shivered with reaction as the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place -- the growing distance between them over the past months, his bitter hatred for his father, the utter ridiculousness of Doors attempting to kill his runner-up -- and her contribution, the scheme Jarod had created for her that resulted in the humiliation and exposure of the man responsible for her own brother's death in the SI War. She was ready to sink back into the sofa again when Jarod called her name.

"Emma? I need to talk to Augur for a minute. Could you keep an eye on Liam for me?"

"Sure," she answered, and took her fearful realizations with her for further consideration.

Jarod turned back to Augur. "I think it's time you told me everything." He loomed over the hacker, his brown eyes glowering from underneath dark brows.

"I don't know what you mean, my friend," prevaricated Augur, as he continued to program the computer. "Search all frequencies for Lili's signal."

"These readings," Jarod gestured towards the screen, "are not correct. Either your extremely sophisticated computer is misprogrammed, or your friend in there is more than he seems."

"Why don't you tell me?" Augur answered snidely. "You seem to have figured out everything else about us."

Jarod leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest. He could no longer count how many times he had come to this crossroads, this pivotal moment from which everything followed. He understood its nuances so well, had studied how to project his own trustworthiness, no matter what crap he was making up, had learned how to judge the other person's acceptance. But this time, there would be no going back. It was time to tell the truth -- the real truth.

"Augur, listen to me. I'm a Pretender, someone who can be anyone he wants to be. And when I was a very young child, I was stolen from my family, and raised and trained by a group of people who are so much like the Taelons it scares me. I won't let that happen again, to anyone. I want to help you, and the Resistance, but I need you to trust me."

The younger man finally looked up from his computer monitor, his troubled eyes meeting Jarod's.

***

__

How can anyone understand what's in their soul? The anguished voice drifted through his consciousness. He didn't even know whose voice it was anymore. There were so many voices pushing against him. And the lights. Pushing him. Pushing him around. Pressing closer. _NO!_ he thought, trying again to push them back. But they just kept coming. Why wouldn't they leave him alone? Pushing, pushing…

He would be overwhelmed. 

They would overrun him. 

There would be no more him. 

He would not be pushed.

__

NO MORE!

***

Emma had only glanced at Liam when she entered the room where the semi-conscious Protector lay. Her thoughts were still circling madly around the realization that Joshua Doors, her closest friend since college, was responsible for…

__

For what, Emma? The destruction of the American way of life, of who knows how many innocent lives? How could she have been so ignorant, so willfully ignorant? She'd always known that Joshua had a ruthless streak; they'd even joked about it -- it would get him elected President, _just like mine is supposed to get me a Pulitzer._ And how much of what had happened was she herself responsible for? Liam's incoherent mumbling distracted her for only a moment.

__

I am his friend, she thought. _I should have realized something was wrong…_ Liam's voice grew louder, and she turned to him, taking a cloth from the table beside the bed and wringing it out. She passed the cloth over his forehead, but it seemed to give him little relief. Morbid curiosity prompted her to check on Liam's palms. She picked his hand up by the wrist, surprised to see that Jarod had not yet redressed the burns. They really were bad, so bad, in fact, that she could see a shiny white liquid gathering in the center, where the burn was deepest. And then she realized that it wasn't liquid at all. The white glow expanded out of Liam's palms, rapidly brightening to a glare.

"Jarod!" yelled Emma, dropping Liam's hand and stepping back from the bed. The glare spread to cover Liam's entire body as he shouted something incomprehensible. Jarod and Augur pelted into the room and all three were blinded by the sudden flash. As their vision cleared, they could see Liam, sitting upright on the bed, examining the front and back of his now-healed hands. "That feels much better," he said.

"Liam!" cried Augur exultantly, rushing to his friend. "You had us worried! You remember Jarod, don't you? I kind of had to tell him our little secret," Augur dropped his voice on the last. Liam flicked a startled look at Augur. Jarod stepped forward, hand extended. Liam took the hand, but couldn't quite meet Jarod's eyes. "It's an honor," said the Pretender sincerely. Liam's sheepish gaze finally meandered its way to Jarod's face. Biting his lip and letting go of Jarod's hand, he slid off the bed and stood up.

It was then that he realized there was a fourth person in the little room. 

Emma was still trying to manufacture some rational explanation for what she had witnessed. Apparently, Liam Kincaid was more than just the leader of the Resistance. And it was quite obvious now that she had allowed Jarod to drag her into something very large. 

"This is my friend, Emma Weston," offered Jarod.

"We've met." 

"Major," acknowledged Emma coolly.

Liam braced himself. As if Abby Franklin weren't bad enough, now there was another reporter with a shaqarava story to tell. And since this one knew about the Resistance hideout, he was betting the price of her silence would be more than just a kiss. "There's a perfectly rational explanation for this," he gestured around the room.

"I'm sure there is. But I'd rather hear the truth." She crossed her arms and waited. 

"I wish I could tell you," began Liam. Jarod noted with professional approval that the boy was projecting sincerity at just the right level. "But I can't. This…"

"Forget it," interrupted Emma, holding up her hand as if to physically stop Liam's explanation from proceeding any further. "I just spent three hours dragging a man I despise through the sewers, only to discover that his son, whom I have known and respected for the past decade, is the planet's biggest freaking moronic low-life traitor, and you, you…" Emma waved her arms helplessly. If she couldn't get a grip in the next few moments, she knew she would lose it completely. Taking a deep breath, she said, "I guess that what you were up to between the end of the SI War and becoming Da'an's protector isn't your biggest mystery."

Liam shifted uncomfortably under Emma's level gaze. He could see the strain of the past hours beginning to express itself around her eyes and mouth. She had looked the same when he had first met her, at the first Embassy reception he'd attended as Da'an's protector. Come to think of it, hadn't she been there with Joshua Doors? No, there was definitely no way that he could entrust the secret of his Kimera heritage to Emma Weston.

Jarod closed his eyes in despair, but when he opened them the tableau remained: the tall young man radiating stubbornness, and the equally determined woman standing opposite him. The Pretender could tell that Emma's emotions were being held sternly in check, and he really hated what he was going to have to do next. It was, however, the only logical step.

"You're right, Emma," he said. "Kincaid's whereabouts aren't the biggest mystery. It's the shaqarava." Liam turned his glare on Jarod.

"Shaqarava?" echoed Emma.

"A legacy from his alien father, Ha'gel."

Liam clenched his jaw and his fists. He could show this so-called friend of Augur's a thing or two about shaqarava, if he chose. Behind them, Augur was practically dancing with frustration over this betrayal of confidence, but Jarod remained focused on Emma.

"Ha'gel." Her tone was flat. "The same Ha'gel who killed Will?" The tautness that Jarod had noticed in her face now characterized her entire body. Oh, how he regretted causing her pain, but it was necessary.

"My father did not kill William Boone!" stated Liam emphatically, only realizing his mistake after the words left his mouth. Augur gave up trying to attract Jarod's attention and smacked his palm against his forehead.

"Really?" sneered Emma. "The Taelon medical records indicated quite clearly that Will's injuries were extensive and life-threatening."

"Where did you get access to Taelon medical records?" Liam flung the question defensively.

"I stole them. You nearly caught me -- that reception in the embassy? I told you I'd gotten lost on the way to the washroom." She tossed her hair back. Truthfully, he'd stopped her from running right into Sandoval, in which case there would have been no records to discuss, but that was not the issue.

"Ha'gel did not kill Boone," repeated Liam. "It was Zo'or." Emma's disdainful expression remained. He longed to wipe it off her face -- and he knew just what to tell her. "He did it so that he could steal Will's consciousness and implant it in others. He suppressed everything that was human and augmented the qualities that made him a great soldier. He was trying to create the perfect army to throw in the path of the Taelons' enemies, the Jaridians. Zo'or called him Lazarus. And when the experiment backfired and Lazarus began to recall Boone's memories, Zo'or let him be killed again."

Emma took an involuntary step backward. Jarod moved to stand beside her; he could see she was nearly done in by this last revelation. "It's true," confirmed Augur gently. "I saw him, on the Taelon Mothership." Emma simply looked at him, her blue eyes bright with tears. There was nowhere left for her to turn; she was going to have her breakdown here and now. She couldn't deny the force of truth in Liam's story. 

"Why?" she whispered. "Why would he hate Will so?"

Liam stepped forward. "It's not just Boone, Emma. Zo'or hates all of humanity. He believes we're a lower form of life than he is."

"You think I haven't seen that?" she cried wildly. Her throat constricting around a sob, she fled the room.

Jarod held out an arm to stop Liam from going after her. "Give her a minute," he suggested. Green eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Just who the hell do you think you are?" he demanded. "You had no right to repeat what Augur told you in confidence, especially not to someone like her."

Jarod dropped his arm, suddenly sick to death of all the games. "Do you want to stop Zo'or?" he asked.

"Of course, but I'm telling you that we don't need…"

"And I'm telling you that she's the key to accomplishing that goal!" the Pretender roared. "You are the leader of no one, Liam. The Resistance is destroyed, captured or in hiding. Da'an has not been heard from since this crisis began. You've lost contact with your operatives aboard the Mothership. I have a plan to get all that back, if you're willing to follow it."

"Really?" queried Liam, his eyebrows curving upward to emphasize the sarcasm in his tone.

Augur looked from one to the other. The moment of silence stretched out, and was broken by the chirp of a global. The three dashed out into the main cavern. "Onscreen," Augur sang out. "It's got to be Lili!" he crowed as he elbowed Liam.

"There's no signal," replied the holo-program, declining to make an appearance. The chirp was repeated. "Over there," pointed Liam, towards Augur's 'living room.' Sitting on the coffee table was a leather bag. The chirp came again, from inside.

"Excuse me," said Emma, as she forced her way over to her purse. "Do you mind?" She reached into the bag and pulled out her global. Placing her back to the wall, she popped open the screen. Her spine straightened and her face became expressionless as she spoke. "Joshua," she answered.

The face of her one-time friend was animated, and almost relaxed. "Emma!" he exclaimed with relief. "I've been trying to get you for hours, but the connections were down."

She wasted no time. "What the hell do you think you're up to?"

"I wanted to tell you but…well, you know how things get. I'm sorry. I should have let you know. It would have been nice to have someone else on my side. But, Emma, I've got great news." She quirked an eyebrow at the global. "How would you like a position at the White House, in the new administration?"

"Thompson is a pawn, Joshua. I want to be where the action is. I want Zo'or." Emma's tone was cold.

"Ems, I don't know…"

"Don't play games with me, Joshua Doors. Your…credentials…should be adequate for the task."

Joshua sighed. "I should have known you would want the best. I'll call you back with the arrangements."

She snapped the global shut and threw it on the sofa. "Rat-fink bastard butt-smelling salmonella-spreading three-D loser," she muttered.

"Emma, what are you doing?" asked Liam.

"You need someone on the inside," she stated as calmly as she could manage. "I'm volunteering."

TO BE CONTINUED

   [1]: http://www.kaarpaaj.com/



	2. Must Be Wiling to Work Long Hours

Copyright 1999, Zelda. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reposted in part or in full without written permission.

Disclaimer: _Earth: Final Conflict_ and all its characters are the property of Tribune Entertainment and are used without permission. Jarod is the property of the Centre, aka NBC Television, and is also used without permission. However, I do promise to put everyone neatly away when I am done playing with them

Rating: PG-13

Must Be Willing to Work Long Hours

an Earth: Final Conflict story

By: Zelda

__

Note: This chapter features the first of our Pretender cameos, so here's what you need to know: When Jarod escaped from The Centre as an adult, three people were assigned the task of chasing him down. Sydney (no last name given) was Jarod's mentor, the psychiatrist who trained him as a Pretender and served as a father-figure; Miss Parker (no first name given) was the daughter of Mr. Parker, Centre bigshot. She grew up with Jarod, gave him his first kiss and became a first-class bitch (are the two related? Hmmm … And the third person tracking Jarod was Broots, a technical genius who only kept working for the Centre because he needed the money to raise his daughter, Debbie. Okay, got all that? And as for the hair-sniffing, those of you who have "Atavus" on tape, check out the scene in the Flat Planet.

Joshua Doors hurried down the corridor, straightening his tie. Security had just sent word that she was here, and he wanted to greet her personally, as soon as possible. A half-smile quirked his lips; what a great team they would make, just like the old days! He rounded the corner and there she was. "Emma," he said, holding out his hand.

"Joshua," she responded, grasping his hand and smiling.

"It's good to see you. Nice suit, by the way. I could only get you an hour with Zo'or, but that should be enough time for you to dazzle him. The shuttle is waiting." One arm gestured forward, the other curved around Emma's waist. Moments later, they were heading for the Taelon Mothership.

Inside, Emma leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "Emma?" asked Joshua with concern. "You alright?"

"Sorry," she replied, turning towards Joshua. "Just nerves," she shrugged.

"Don't worry. You can do it." 

"Of course I can do it," she snapped. "But what if Zo'or doesn't see that?"

"Don't worry about Zo'or. Yes, it's true he has an enormous ego, and he believes that the Taelons are superior in every way, but it's also true that he wouldn't be where he is now without us."

"Without you," she corrected. "Joshua, how are you? Really?" Joshua looked deeply into her serious blue eyes, and smiled.

"I feel…great." He leaned back in the chair. "After all those years of getting kicked around, everything he did to Mom and me..." He paused, savoring the memory. "And in the end, all he could do was beg for forgiveness. It was…even better than I imagined. Almost…"  
  
"Orgasmic?" she completed for him. At his startled look, she laughed. "Don't forget, I've been there. I know what it's like. The confrontation: when they confess, and then, they squirm. Definitely orgasmic. I gather he hasn't been captured yet?"

"No, but it's only a matter of time. He can't hide from us forever. And don't you fret about Zo'or. I have every confidence in you," he grinned as he dredged up their old catchphrase. Emma shook her head in mock despair.

***

The view from the bridge of Mothership was truly fantastic. At least, that's what Emma had heard, but apparently she was not to experience it today. She and Joshua had been sequestered in a meeting room to wait for Zo'or. That had been almost half an hour ago, a delay which, under normal circumstances, would have irritated her immeasurably. Today, however, she was grateful for the chance to review the plans drawn up in frantic haste only a few hours earlier.

"The most important thing," Liam had said, while they were gathered around the computer console, "is to find out what's happened to the Resistance members Zo'or has captured. We need to free them."

"The most important thing," Augur repeated, with more volume, "is to find out what's happened to Lili." He shifted stations yet again. "Damn! Liam, I don't know how long it's going to take to re-establish our surveillance of the Mothership. All the passwords have been changed, and they keep changing them."

Liam walked around the console, rubbing his newly-healed palms absently. "We have to keep trying, Augur. We need to know what's going on up there."

"Hey, what's this?" Augur exclaimed. Jarod leaned in for a closer look. 

"It seems to be some kind of encrypted signal," commented the Pretender.

"Computer, decode the signal using All-Matching program." They waited. And waited. "Computer, status?" growled Augur impatiently.

Emma blinked as an image of Captain Marquette appeared, carrying a squalling infant over one towel-draped shoulder. "Look, could you give me a minute here? Little Augur's got the colic, poor thing, and you have all my subroutines tied up trying to break into the Mothership. I'm not Superwoman! It wouldn't kill you to do a few things for yourself once in a while!" Liam and Jarod exchanged amused glances behind the nonplussed Augur's back.

"I'm sorry," apologized Augur. He touched a few controls. "Is that any better?"

The holo-baby stopped crying. Its mother sighed in relief. "Much. Signal decoded," she announced.

"Well, what is it?" 

"It's not for you," replied Holo-Lili primly. "It's for Liam." Liam wiped the smirk from his face and straightened up.

"Would you show me please?" he asked courteously.

"Of course." The holographic program looked reproachfully at Augur. "See how easy that was?" she rebuked him, and disappeared, to be replaced by Da'an's face.

"Liam, I do not have long and I must trust that you will receive this message. I cannot reach you through your global to warn you, but I fear the worst is upon us. I am expecting Agent Sandoval shortly; I have spoken too openly in opposition to Zo'or. You must not come to the Mothership to rescue me. It would mean your death. Your responsibility now must be to your species. I release you from your oath. Do what you must: humanity must survive. Take care, Liam, and know that I am honored to have called you my friend, as well as my protector."

A shaken Liam felt for a seat and dropped heavily into it. He looked completely lost. "I have to save him," he whispered.

"Liam!" exclaimed Augur. "You heard what Da'an said! It would be suicide! Have some sense, man! You can't rescue him from the Mothership!"

"Then we'll have to do it from someplace else," Liam answered, new resolve imprinting itself upon his face.

Joshua's discreet cough jerked Emma back to the present, drawing her attention to the doorway.

"Agent Sandoval, Zo'or, thank you for agreeing to this meeting. I promise, it will be worth your while." Joshua escorted the two into the room.

"It had better be, Mr. Doors," replied Zo'or with his customary coldness.

"May I present Miss Emma Weston?"

"Agent Sandoval," Emma inclined her head. "Zo'or." She performed the Taelon gesture of welcoming. "It is an honour to have this opportunity to meet with you personally."

"We have done so at the insistence of Mr. Doors. I trust you have something of significance to bring to us?" Sandoval took a position behind Zo'or's chair, the only one in the room.

Emma moved to the center of the room to begin her pitch. "The past few days have seen incredible changes in the Taelon-human dynamic. When you came to Earth, you called yourselves the Companions, and told us that you came in peace. You brought an end to war, hunger and disease. But not all of humanity was satisfied to simply accept your gifts. Those who questioned, soon organized themselves into the Resistance, led by Jonathan Doors. When this year's Presidential election was called, Doors emerged from hiding and placed his name on the ballot to become our next President. Even though he was leading in the polls, at the final debate before the election, he attempted to assassinate the incumbent President, Thompson. An infuriated American public voted for Thompson in record numbers. The re-elected President has now called upon Taelon support to eliminate the Resistance, support which you have provided in the form of troops and military equipment. Martial law has been declared in the American republic, for the first time in over two hundred years."

Zo'or quirked his head to the side. "Why do you speak of what is already known?"

"I merely speak of what is on the public record," Emma replied. "I know the facts, and where they differ. It's this gap between appearance and reality that you need to exploit." She paused. "The reality is the Taelons cannot afford to continue their military domination of the United States. I project that within the next six months, the Resistance will return in greater numbers, most of them ordinary citizens, angered by your interference in their affairs. You will be drawn into a war you cannot hope to win, when you are already at war with the Jaridians."

"The Taelons have military superiority over any Earth force," Sandoval claimed.

"It doesn't matter. Guerrilla units will spring up around the country. Rioting has already started in New York and Los Angeles. Don't forget, our nation was founded on just such a war. Now if you had tried this in Canada…" Emma raised one shoulder. Joshua swallowed a smile. Risking a look at Zo'or, he could see that she had the Taelon in the palm of her hand. He winked to relay the information to Emma.

"What do you suggest?" Zo'or leaned forward in his chair.

"The previous alliance between the Companions and humanity worked because we wanted to help you. But during the past year, you have turned away from this valuable resource and instead attempted to force our cooperation." A pinched expression raced across Zo'or's face_. Didn't like that, did you?_ Emma thought with satisfaction.

"Any such reports are, at best, outrageous allegations," the Synod Leader recovered, smiling.

"Of course," Emma acknowledged sweetly. "And when your Commonality was disrupted by a Jaridian probe, the humans who helped sustain you were of course volunteers, and not suspected Resistance members dragged off the street." Her tone was light but spiked with menace.

"Of course." Zo'or echoed her tone exactly.

"But they could have been volunteers," she emphasized. "You took by force what could have been yours freely." She let a moment pass to allow the idea to sink in, and then continued. "If you and Da'an had made the appeal, millions would have responded."

"What is your proposal, Miss Weston?" asked Sandoval impatiently.

"My proposal, Mr. Sandoval, is that instead of wasting valuable Taelon resources in support of this state of emergency, we encourage the people of Earth to police themselves, to purge themselves, if you will, of this Resistance contamination. I assure you, given the proper encouragement, we humans can oppress ourselves far more effectively than any number of Taelons. After all, we have centuries of experience at it." She finished her entreaty facing Zo'or directly.

"And what sort of … encouragement would you recommend, Miss Weston?" he inquired.

Sandoval noted with interest that this was the first time Emma Weston seemed uncomfortable since he and Zo'or had entered the room. With a quick glance at Joshua for support, she said, "If a prominent Taelon were to make a request for a return to order, and he were to stress that it was the duty of all proper Humans to report suspicious activity, I believe you could eliminate the Resistance threat."

Zo'or leaned back into his chair, steepling his hands in front of him, a human gesture he had recently observed. "A tempting offer, Miss Weston," he complimented. "Is the leader of the Taelon Synod sufficiently prominent for your purposes?"

Emma took a deep breath. Now she was getting into the deep end. _The most important thing,_ warned Jarod's voice from the back of her mind, _is: don't get caught_. "Actually, Zo'or, a little too prominent. The public views the Synod Leader as remote, distanced from human concerns. We would require a more approachable Taelon, one the public identifies with. We need Da'an."

"Impossible," retorted Zo'or sharply. "You will have to find another, or else use me."

"Im-" began Emma. Sandoval interrupted her. "Da'an has been placed under confinement."

"Purely protective, I assure you," Zo'or soothed. "But in any case, he would never agree to work with us in such a manner."

Emma returned Zo'or's initial contemptuous glare in full measure. "Then don't tell him."

"Pardon me?" Sandoval couldn't believe what he was hearing. Nothing in the Taelon files had indicated this side of Emma Weston. He snuck a confirming glance at Joshua. The younger Doors was grinning from ear to ear; obviously he was not surprised.

She continued. "Tell him you've changed your mind, his example has persuaded you, buy him off, whatever it takes. You need him to get the public on your side."

"And when he discovers he has been used?"

She clasped her trembling hands behind her back. "The public also loves a martyr, Zo'or. With all due respect, of course."

"Of course. Would you give us a moment, please?" Emma obligingly went out the door. Joshua followed right behind her.

"Now that's what I call dazzle," he said with approval. "How do you come up with this stuff?"

"What else have I had to do for the past six months, while you were setting up your father?"

Sandoval came out of the room and beckoned them back in. "Miss Weston," the Synod Leader pronounced, "your proposal is acceptable. You may begin immediately."

***

"Nice suit," commented Jarod as Emma dropped her navy winter coat on Augur's vivid orange sofa.

"Thanks," she replied, pulling at the wrinkled pale blue fabric in dismay, "but it looked better this morning." Liam and Augur hovered expectantly nearby. "So where shall we do this? Out in the open?" she gestured down towards the center of the lair. Jarod offered her a chair, but she shook her head. The way she was feeling right now, one minute she'd be sitting down and the next, out like a light. The only way to keep the blood flowing was to keep moving.

"First things first: yes, I'm in and yes, Zo'or has bought our plan."

"Do you have a timetable?" 

"Have you seen Da'an?" Liam cut in quietly.

"No timetable, Jarod, and yes, I have seen him. That's the problem. I'm afraid Da'an won't go along with our plan. Zo'or brought me along to 'observe' while he talked to Da'an today, and …" she trailed off in dismay. "Da'an is not going to agree with anything Zo'or suggests."

"What did they say?"

"To be honest, I couldn't really tell you. They were talking in Euonia the whole time. But judging from their body language and Zo'or's more foul than usual temper right after, it didn't go very well at all. Every time that Zo'or spoke, Da'an just turned away. Finally Zo'or got pissed off and stalked out."

"When will you suggest to Zo'or that you should talk to Da'an?" Jarod asked.

"He needs to try a few more times, I think you'll agree. But even when I do get in to see Da'an, I don't know if he'll believe me, either. I mean, what am I supposed to say? I can't tell him the plan, or that I'm working with you guys. His cell is under full surveillance. We might just as well send Zo'or an engraved invitation to Da'an's breakout party." Emma ran her hand through her bangs, then reached around to the back of her head and began pulling out the pins that held her hair in a loose knot. Gods, her head was starting to ache!

"Could you tell him you have a message from Liam?" Augur proposed.

Emma pulled out the last bobby pin and shook her hair loose with her fingers. "The Major is persona non grata at the moment." She met Liam's fascinated gaze regretfully. "The arrest warrant was issued this afternoon; I'm sorry. And before you ask, Augur, no, I haven't seen or heard of Lili. When I asked Sandoval about her, he said that information was not pertinent to my work, and therefore none of my concern." A dejected silence settled over the four. "But I will try again tomorrow," Emma said, forcing confidence into her voice. "They've given me pretty broad access to the information stream. If you show me how, Augur, I bet we could make my access even broader."

"I have just the thing!" Augur began rummaging through a crate of tiny electronic instruments.

"But that still leaves us with the problem of Da'an," Jarod reminded them. Liam thought desperately. In the time he had served as Da'an's protector, surely there must have been something that had happened or that he had said that could be used a signal to the Companion? He cast his mind back to the very beginning -- and remembered.

__

Of course, he'd thought, when he spotted the opening. And now, seven moves later, "Foov'lasha," he announced with pride, as the game chimed its agreement. The pale-skinned alien opposite him wore an intrigued expression.

"I have never seen foov'lasha played on this level. How long have you been playing?" it inquired. Liam corrected himself. Not it, _he_. He had to remember to think of it as male.

"This is my first time," he answered, studying the game with extreme satisfaction. What if he had placed this piece over there? He plotted another series of victorious moves. "I'm good at games." Running, jumping, impersonating military officers…

Faster than he would have dreamed possible, Da'an's hand shot out and grabbed his own. "Not as good as you are at hiding the truth," the Taelon responded.

Fighting the onslaught of panic that threatened to send him racing from the room, he stalled. "The truth?"

"As written in your palm," it -- no, he -- said. Traitorous panic stopped urging him to flee and froze him in place instead. The Taelon turned over Liam's hand; in the center of the palm, a faint discoloration was visible. It tingled uncomfortably under Da'an's gaze. 

"You deceived me," Da'an accused. Liam met the Taelon's eyes, determined to brazen out the encounter at any cost, and saw in them something that not one of his three sets of ancestral memories had anticipated. Compassion. Understanding. And hope. The chains of fear holding his breath in place dissolved.

"What can I say? You got me," he returned, brimming with the same self-confidence he'd felt after saving Da'an's life at Boone's funeral.

Da'an smiled as he reclaimed the last gamepiece. "Only a lasha master could triumph over me at my own game."

"Only a lasha master could triumph over me at my own game," Da'an's voice echoed in his memory. He had kept that one piece from Da'an's set…slipped it into his coat pocket the morning of the election, the day that he had rescued Doors and then…His mind shied away from the rest of the memory. Better not to go there just now. But the coat… "Be right back," he promised. Rushing to his room, he quickly located the piece and returned to the main hall. Coming up to Emma, he passed her the triangular object. "Here," he said.

"What is it?" she asked, obviously mystified.

"It's a piece from a Taelon game called foov'lasha. Da'an and I played. It was my second day," Liam answered. Emma closed her hand around the piece, then opened it in the Taelon greeting gesture. And that's when he did it. He leaned in, ever so slightly, as he'd been longing to do since she'd first started taking down her hair, and sniffed. The aroma hit him with a rush. It was exactly as he'd remembered. In a flash he was back at the Embassy, passing through the dimly-lit hall, where he'd fled just to be alone for a moment -- as much as a newborn Kimera with the memories of three parents could ever be alone -- when she crashed into him, rocking him back on his heels. For a moment, his head had swum with the heady fragrance, a mix of smells that he couldn't even classify except as good. Ever since, he had tried to find that same scent, sniffing the hair of every female he encountered, starting with Suzanne at the Flat Planet to most recently Abby Franklin, but not one had come close to Emma Weston.

Emma practiced revealing the lasha piece one more time. "So, now that we have Da'an settled, what's the next step in our plan to take over the world?" she asked through an enormous yawn.

"Emma," asked Jarod, "when was the last time you got some sleep?"

"Monday. I slept Monday, before all this started. Why? What day is it today?"

"Thursday," Augur answered as he pulled something out of the crate. "Here we go. Just the thing for breaking into Taelon databases."

***

Both Liam and Augur were engrossed at the computer when Jarod returned from seeing Emma home. "I don't see how the three of us can do it, Liam. The area is just too big," Augur stated. It sounded like the argument had been going on for a while.

"I agree with you, but I don't know what other choices we have. We're only going to get one shot at this," replied Liam. Jarod noted that Kincaid was massaging his palms again. "Jarod, do you have any suggestions?"

The Pretender crossed the room to examine the display. On the screen was a three-dimensional representation of the area just across from the Taelon embassy, where, Emma had informed them, Zo'or was planning to hold Da'an's final press conference. "The same features that make this location ideal also make it impossible to work with. But don't worry. I never planned for just the three of us to carry this off. I know some people who can help us, good people."

***

"Well, Miss Weston," Zo'or swiveled his command chair around to glare at the new arrival disdainfully, "it appears that your ambitious plan will not be proceeding after all." He felt Sandoval's presence at his shoulder and knew that the implant was observing all the activity on the bridge. That was as it should be. And Weston's attention was now devoted to him, which was also as it should be. She regarded him dispassionately, awaiting further explanation. "As I predicted, Da'an has refused to join us." Zo'or reveled in the complex mixture of emotions the statement generated within him. Satisfaction that he had been correct; superiority over the inferior humans; contempt for their pathetic attempts to intrigue like Taelons; and the true seasoning to the mix, faint regret that yet again Da'an had refused to acknowledge Zo'or's fitness for the role chosen for him by the Synod.

"With your permission, Zo'or," Weston spoke respectfully, one of her most admirable traits. He gestured for her to continue. "Perhaps Da'an might be more willing to listen to someone less intimately known to him." He considered the notion, and dismissed it. However, experience had shown him that it was more stimulating to allow the humans to overreach themselves from time to time.

"You are referring to yourself, I presume?" At her affirmative response, the Synod Leader allowed his face to register both approval of her plan, and expectation of her failure. "You may proceed." Sandoval dispatched a Volunteer to escort Weston to Da'an's holding cell.

***

__

Another missed opportunity to enjoy the view, sighed Emma as she dutifully followed the black-and-silver clad Volunteer through the ship. And as for Zo'or, was it possible that a more arrogant creature existed anywhere in the universe? She was so looking forward to his expression when he was told that Da'an had escaped their carefully laid trap. The Volunteer stopped to enter a security code -- the same code used each time she and Zo'or had visited Da'an. _Sloppy, sloppy -- good for us_, Emma thought. This time, instead of waiting in the antechamber, she and the Volunteer proceeded to Da'an's cell. As the young woman disarmed the forcefield barrier, Emma palmed the lasha piece Liam had given her. "When you are ready," said the Volunteer. Emma tugged at the waistband of her top with both hands to straighten it, nodded, and stepped into the cell. The barrier crackled into life behind her.

Da'an stood silhouetted against the starfield visible through the virtual glass. He allowed a moment to pass, before acknowledging the intruder. What Zo'or wanted, he could not even begin to say. Even the Commonality gave him no hint as to why his cooperation was so ardently desired by the Synod Leader. But beyond any doubt, it was the one thing Zo'or should never have. He turned.

The Taelon blushed blue at Zo'or's latest attempt to win him over. "Miss Weston. I am disappointed to see you here."

Emma took one more step forward to ensure her back was to the main security camera. "Da'an," she greeted, her right hand opening to reveal the translucent game piece. She held the gesture a moment longer than necessary and was rewarded by a sudden intake of breath from Da'an.

"Where," he breathed out, but she forestalled him with a slight head shake. Tilting her head towards the nearest of the cameras she prayed he would understand her message. "Where does Zo'or get the audacity to imagine that you will succeed where he has failed?" Da'an recovered in a stronger voice.

"Perhaps he believes that you are more likely to listen to a human about the concerns of humanity. Da'an, people are dying. You can stop it, but not from in here. Humanity needs you, to protect us from Zo'or and from ourselves." She looked directly at Da'an and mouthed "Liam." Hope rose in the Companion for the first time since his imprisonment.

"What do you expect me to do?"

***

Liam skulked through the gathering crowd, baseball cap pulled low over his brown curls. It was good to be outdoors, but any further delay and his nerves would be completely shot. He surveyed the park yet again. A minimal police force was stationed around the edges of the crowd. He would never have let Da'an appear in public with such shoddy security, but of course that was Zo'or's whole game plan. Jarod was also somewhere in the crowd, preparing to move on Da'an's shuttle when it landed and disable it to prevent pursuit. Augur stood to the left of the stage, keeping an ear on the comm frequencies so that they would have some warning of Da'an's arrival. And, according to Jarod, one of his accomplices was nearby, ready to drive the getaway van, while the other was already on the rooftop where Emma had informed them Zo'or's sniper would position himself. _Provided,_ he thought, finally acknowledging his secret fear_, that this whole thing isn't a setup to flush out the rest of the Resistance._ His stomach rolled again. But what other choice did he have? What other choice had he ever had? Clamping his lips together and willing his rebellious stomach into submission, he started to move toward the stage. The global in his pocket vibrated, announcing Da'an's imminent arrival.

The shuttle safely landed, the pilot dissolved the virtual glass barrier and stepped aside to allow the passengers out. Sandoval exited first, followed by a security-rank Volunteer, and then Da'an. The crowd surged forward in anticipation. Emma was the last to disembark. Cold November air slicing through her, she buttoned up her coat and moved after the main party.

Jarod waited until Da'an and his escort were positioned on stage, then casually sauntered over to the shuttle. "Are you guarding this shuttle?" he asked the pilot in a brusque tone.

"Yes, sir," said the young man, responding to the captain's ranking on his acquired Volunteer uniform.

"By yourself?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good," said Jarod, and slugged him.

Joshua Doors was finishing his welcoming speech and motioning Da'an to the podium as Augur entered the last command on his global. _Little slime,_ he reflected. _I never liked him. Especially when he was dating Lili._ He pressed Send, and faded back into the crowd to head for the rendezvous point. _In five seconds, _he thought with pride_, they won't know what hit them, and they sure as hell won't be able to tell anyone about it._

Da'an looked over the crowd. So many faces, pressing forward in hope, in expectation, that where the Taelons had saved them once, they would be able to do so again. Would he see the faces he expected, he hoped to see? Was it fair to depend on Liam, on Lili, on all of them, to rescue him? "Friends of Earth," he said, beginning the speech Emma had prepared for him. "I come before you today to ask for your help."

Liam was at the edge of the stage now, his route open before him. All he had to wait for was … and the podium in front of Da'an disintegrated in an instant. Yelling, "Da'an, get down!" he threw himself across the stage onto the Companion, knocking them both to the ground as another energy bolt sizzled overhead. He had only a moment to met Da'an's startled yet amused gaze before he leapt to his feet. "Come on! We've got to get you out of here!" He offered his hand to Da'an.

Sandoval whipped around, skrill glowing. "Major!" he exclaimed. "Explain your presence here."

"We're protecting Da'an, as you seem to have failed to do," the young man answered. Sandoval grimaced at the arrogant tone in Kincaid's voice. An older man in a Volunteer uniform ran up behind Kincaid. As Da'an awkwardly got to his feet, the man reported, "We got the sniper, sir, but there could be more."

"Go, go," responded Kincaid, his gaze locked with Sandoval's. "Get Da'an out of here!"

"I'm afraid I can't allow that, Major," Sandoval interjected, aiming his skrill at Da'an and the fake Volunteer.

Without moving his eyes from Sandoval's face, Liam's left hand reached out and nabbed Emma from her hiding place behind a chair. His Taelon-issue gun appeared in his right hand. Emma uttered a little squeak as the barrel was placed against her head. "Maybe you should reconsider," he suggested, beginning to back up.

Sandoval ground his teeth. He didn't like these kinds of choices, but he could make them. He braced himself for the skrill blast. "No!" yelled Joshua, striking down the implant's arm. The skrill discharged into the stage, vaporizing a hole just at the young Doors's feet. Sandoval charged forward, but it was too late. They were gone. 

"Dammit!" he yelled, pulling out his global. Opening the screen, he was greeted by dead air. "What the…" He shook it, but to no avail, and realized that he hadn't heard anything through his earpiece either since the whole incident began. He threw the useless equipment to the ground in disgust. This was not going to be easy to explain to Zo'or. Not at all.

***

The white cube van proceeded sedately down the alleyway. At its end, a garage door rolled up silently to allow the van inside, and rolled just as silently back down. Augur exuberantly threw open the back door of the truck. "Liam! Liam! That was beautiful! Did you see his face?" Liam helped Da'an to his feet, then down the steps Augur placed against the back bumper. Jarod and Emma were right behind them.

"Augur," Da'an greeted, then turned to his Protector. "Liam." Genuine affection infused the Taelon's already rich tones. "You have disobeyed me."

"You said not to rescue you from the Mothership," Liam stressed with a hopeful smile. Da'an tilted his head in acknowledgement.

"True," he allowed. "And Miss Weston. My thanks must go to you as well." 

"You're welcome. Um, if you'll excuse me? I need to help Jarod with the truck," and she escaped. Jarod and the driver were already peeling back the layer of white plastic that had concealed the truck's much faded logo. "Hey," she called up.

"Take that corner," pointed Jarod from the roof of the van and the three of them pulled. "Oh, Emma, our driver, Debbie Broots, Debbie, my friend, Emma Weston." The last of the plastic came off and Jarod began wadding it into a ball. "Pleased to meet you," offered Debbie. Emma shook Debbie's hand. "Likewise."

"Alrighty then," began Jarod, as he finished disposing of the plastic. Debbie rolled her eyes in exasperation. Emma smiled back in sympathy. "You know what to do next?"

  
"Dump the van at the coordinates you gave me," Debbie answered.

"And then?"

Reluctantly, she replied, "Go right home."

"Good girl," said Jarod. "Give my best to your father. And be careful!" Debbie climbed into the truck; Jarod opened the garage door and she was off. 

And a dejected Emma realized they were now headed back into the sewers.

***

"But what of Jonathan Doors?" Da'an asked as Augur unlocked the door to the hideout.

"See for yourself," Liam waved Da'an inside. The room was much changed from his previous visit: the harsh lighting had disappeared, comfortable furniture had been disposed here and there, and paintings and sculptures beautified every corner.

"This is different," commented Da'an.

"Damn right it's different," growled a voice. "Why the hell'd you bring that Taelon here anyway?" Jonathan Doors rose with difficulty from a seat by the central console. His inflection on the word Taelon was worth seventy swear words, thought Emma with reluctant admiration.

"My house, my rules, Doors," Augur stated blandly.

Da'an descended the stairs to stand in front of Doors. The human's dislike of him radiated out in waves that were almost painful. Steeling himself, Da'an extended his hand in the human greeting gesture, saying, "Mr. Doors, I am pleased to see you again. And you have my sympathy in the actions of your son."

Doors eyed the Taelon's outstretched hand suspiciously at first, but all belligerence vanished at the mention of Joshua. "Thank you," he replied gruffly, grasping Da'an's hand.

"But where is Captain Marquette?" Da'an inquired.

"We'd hoped you could answer that," said a dismayed Liam.

"I assumed she was with you. After her escape from the Mothership…"

"Lili escaped?" yelped Augur.

"I assumed she would have returned to you," Da'an continued. Worry darkened the Companion's luminescent eyes.

"Wait, wait," pleaded Emma. "Let's go back to the beginning. What did the Captain have to escape from?"

"She was going to overload the main power system on the Mothership," Liam stated. Nervously rubbing his hands, he began to pace around the console.

"She did not succeed. She was captured, but escaped before she could be interrogated."

Guilty relief swept through Liam. Much as he admired Lili, even she could not have withstood Zo'or for long. And that would have meant his secret would be revealed. 

Augur demanded, "How did she escape? How long ago? Where is she now?"

"I wish I could answer you, Augur. I have relayed everything I know. It is all Zo'or would reveal to me," Da'an answered, his hands moving agitatedly.

"And we all know how truthful Zo'or is," Augur scoffed. "Lili could be anywhere--she could still be a prisoner!"

"It just makes the next phase of our plan even more important, Augur," Liam slapped his friend on the back with false heartiness.

"Next phase?" Da'an quirked his head interrogatively.

Jarod returned bearing a tray of steaming mugs. "We're going to liberate the Liberation," he said with a smug smirk.

"But we'll need a diversion, to keep Zo'or busy while we're freeing his prisoners," continued Liam, looking expectantly at Da'an.

"Which means, we have a question to ask you, Da'an." Emma placed her mug on the table and stood. "Will you help us? Will you tell William Boone's story to the world? Will you expose Zo'or?"

The Companion evaluated the little group. Five humans, prepared to throw themselves against the full might of the Taelon empire. Doors, old, wounded, suffering from pain both physical and spiritual; Augur, selfish, irresponsible, protective as a lion of his friends; Jarod, quiet, self-assured, though yet unknown; Liam, brash, reckless, more powerful than even he could imagine; and Emma, her superficial façade stripped away to reveal resources of surprising depth. It was impossible; it was lunacy; and it was the only thing he desired to do.

"Yes."

***

Back in the sewers, Emma made a silent resolution_: When all this is over, I'm never going underground again!_

"You don't have to do this, you know," Liam commented. "You don't have to go back to Zo'or, if you don't want to."

"Thanks, but I do. Someone has to be there when the shit hits the fan." Emma tried for a light-hearted tone.

"You feel pretty strongly about what he did to Boone," stated Liam. Maybe he would finally get some answers about what was motivating Emma, answers that would mean he could really trust her.

In the dim light, he could just make out the sorrow on her face. "Strongly isn't quite the word for it." She sighed, and met Liam's eyes, surprised by the compassion she saw there. "Will and my brother were friends. My family moved to Will's hometown when I was six. He and Jonny were inseparable as teenagers."

"You thought of him like another brother?" guessed Liam. It made perfect sense.

"He thought of me like another sister," Emma answered equivocally. And realized that she did want to tell Liam the truth. "I never thought of him as my brother."

Liam halted altogether. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize." He hadn't meant to find out this much.

"No, it's okay." She half-smiled up at him. "I've had a long time to get used to the fact that William Boone would never like me the way I liked him. But I don't like it when people mess with the people I love." She set her face determinedly.

"We'll have to cross here," Liam decided, looking around them and consulting his global. He edged out onto the narrow shelf and sidled across. Emma stepped up and shuffled behind him. Several feet below, a sludgy rivulet of she-didn't-want-to-know-what gurgled quietly. "Watch your step," he cautioned as he neared the other edge, "it's not too solid here." Just as he said it, she felt the brickwork crumble underneath her foot and she lost her balance. Liam had only a moment to react. He reached out, grabbed her hand, and yanked her onto solid ground. She slammed against his chest and he put his other arm around her to keep her standing. Emma held her face against Liam's chest for a moment, dizzy from the rapid movement. "Whoa," she mumbled.

"You okay?" he asked, looking down at her blonde head. Fragrance wafted up and assaulted his nostrils. He swallowed, hard.

"Yeah," she breathed, raising her eyes to Liam's. She felt a sudden clenching rush from her adrenal system. _He's going to kiss me,_ she realized, _and I'm going to let him._ Liam's head came down, and his parted lips pressed against hers.

Liam's mind was swimming. Emma's fragrance surrounded him; he could feel her body pressing against his; her lips were soft and welcoming. He tingled from the tips of his toes to his shaqarava. This was much better than kissing Abby Franklin.

Emma struggled to control her breathing as the kiss ended. She'd never been so aroused by an action that, on the surface, seemed so innocent. Just two people placing their parted lips together for a brief moment, that was all, she told herself sternly. She held out her hand and smiled. "Come on, we'd better get going."

Liam's stomach turned over at her smile. Could he even walk? he wondered. He pulled out his global and reviewed the map to their destination. "This way," he said finally.

***

Inside the back of the white cube van that Debbie had compliantly abandoned at the proper coordinates, Liam checked Emma's bonds one last time. "They're not too tight?' he asked worriedly.

"No, it's fine," she assured him, wiggling her hands, which were now tied behind her back.

"Will you be warm enough? I can button up your coat," Liam offered. He'd have to get in close to do that…

"I'll be fine," she repeated, quite seriously. "I'm going to keep warm by trying to get out of these things before Sandoval comes. And if he doesn't," she cut him off, "I will see you back at Augur's in a few hours. Now get on with it, already!"

Liam tied the blindfold in place, verified that Emma could not see through it, and, as the final touch, gagged her. Taking the global Augur had prepared out of his pocket, he made the connection to the Taelon Mothership.

***

"Onscreen!" commanded Agent Sandoval, storming onto the bridge of the Mothership. Liam Kincaid's face filled the data stream.

"San-do-val," drawled the renegade Protector. "Come and pick up your trash." The view panned from Kincaid to a bound and struggling Emma Weston. "These coordinates." The data stream went dark, except for a blinking string of numbers.

"Download these coordinates to my shuttle immediately!" the implant snapped.

***

The Volunteer squadron threw open the door to the van, revealing a view nearly identical to the one Kincaid had transmitted to the Mothership. "Miss Weston," called Sandoval. She stopped pulling against the ropes. Sandoval leapt lightly into the back of the van and removed the blindfold and gag.

"Where the hell have you been?" she exploded furiously. "And what the hell was that? You assured me that Kincaid would be no problem! I spent an entire week planning that operation down to the smallest detail, and your sloppiness allowed it to be ruined." Sandoval found himself looking at the gag with regret.

"Take Miss Weston to my shuttle and see that she receives medical attention," he ordered, choosing to ignore her rampage. Her voice carried back to him as she was led away. "If you think that I'm…" He blocked out the distraction, and exited the van. "I need to you survey the entire scene," he instructed the Volunteers. "Mark anything that might lead us back to the perpetrators, but don't move it until the techs can examine it. Run the plates on this van," he commanded the nearest Volunteer. "And someone get to work on the inside." The implant stepped back to view the side panels of the truck. "Do you see writing under that paint?" he asked his second-in-command. The young woman looked carefully, then nodded. "See if you can find out what it says."

Several minutes later, she returned, global in hand. "Agent Sandoval? It's finished." At his nod, she popped open the screen to show him the reconstructed panel.

"The Centre Bakery" arched in script lettering over a picture of a donut being dipped in a steaming cup of coffee. Underneath, in block capitals, was written: "What's missing from your donut? The Centre!"

"Good work," Sandoval commended. From his vantage point up a tree, several hundred yards away, a figure nodded in satisfaction and put his high-powered binoculars away. Shimmying down the tree, he set off towards the west, taking care to avoid the Volunteers snuffling around for clues. He would have a favorable report to give to the old man.

TO BE CONTINUED


	3. Must Be Flexible

Copyright 1999, Zelda. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reposted in part or in full without written permission.

Disclaimer: _Earth: Final Conflict_ and all its characters are the property of Tribune Entertainment and are used without permission. Jarod is the property of the Centre, aka NBC Television, and is also used without permission. However, I do promise to put everyone neatly away when I am done playing with them. I forget the name of the Eve 6 song I stole Emma's late 90s lyric from. Do you know?

Rating: PG-13

Must Be Flexible

an Earth: Final Conflict story

By: Zelda

__

Note: Two more cameos this chapter: the first, like Jarod, explains himself; the second is related to our guest star from chapter 2. Any other questions? Because if you do have any, there's this little box down below …

Jarod paced relentlessly around the perimeter of the room. It had been far too long now. His anxieties were shifting into overdrive, into full-blown panic. Even the muted conversation taking place at the computer console was starting to get on his nerves.

"We've really scored here," commented Augur as he supervised the download of information from Emma's global into his computer. "The last of these prisoner lists has Julia and her buddies on it." The display screen flickered with activity.

"Wait, what's that?" asked Liam excitedly. Augur stopped the data transfer. "Back, no, back one more," the young hybrid instructed. He scanned the screen rapidly. "Well, I'll be…"

What?" Augur demanded. 

"It's the shuttle maintenance records. All shuttles assigned to the Mothership are supposed to report in every week."

"And?"

"This one is missing." Liam tapped the display screen.

"And?"

"It's Lili's shuttle." So Zo'or hadn't lied to Da'an after all -- at least not about this. Now it was just a question of figuring out where Lili was holed up, and letting her know it was safe to return.

"Well, I'll be…" breathed Augur. A warning light flashed at the edge of the display. "Switch to security," he ordered. "Jarod! Looks like your guest is arriving." He looked back at the screen. "That can't be right," he muttered, as the newcomer ran his thumb down the DNA scanner hidden in Saint Michael's Church.

"What?" asked a smiling Liam, his attention diverted from the data download.

"Look," Augur pointed at the display. They both stared in disbelief.

***

"This is intolerable! Your arrogance is beyond measure! I simply cannot continue to do my job if I'm to be deprived of essential support. You assured me Kincaid was not an issue, and not only did he steal Da'an from under your very noses, he kidnapped me! If you and your trained monkey aren't committed to this project, tell me now, and I'll sell it somewhere else." Emma folded her arms across her chest and waited. Gods, she hoped she hadn't gone too far.

Zo'or leaned back in his chair on the bridge of the Mothership, arms braced securely on its sides. He hadn't been, what was the human term, upbraided, in such a fashion in a very long time. Weston's vigor was a refreshing change from the deferential Sandoval. Trained monkey -- he'd have to remember that.

"Miss Weston," Zo'or spoke in measured tones. "There is nowhere else to sell it…but you are essentially correct. We were wrong." 

Emma nearly collapsed in shock. Judging from the absolute stillness that dropped over the bridge, it was a universal reaction. Even the bubble-encased Taelons behind Zo'or stopped their gesturing, if only for a moment. "Thank you," she managed.

***

Liam and Augur gaped in astonishment at the two figures on the landing in front of the elevator.

"Where the hell have you been?" demanded Jarod. "You should have been here an hour ago."

"It could be his son," whispered Liam to Augur.

"But that doesn't account for the DNA match," he answered.

"Chill out, old man," replied the newcomer affectionately. "It just took some time to weave around Sandoval and those slug-ears." His hands wound through the air, mimicking his words.

"Volunteers or no Volunteers, you could have called," Jarod glowered.

"True," allowed the other, extending his hand in a conciliatory gesture. As Jarod took it, he said softly, "I think we'd better explain things to your friends there. They look like they're about to pop a load."

"Jerry, meet Augur, and Liam Kincaid." The younger version of Jarod descended the steps and shook both their hands.

"Da'an's Protector? And leader of the Resistance? A very organized fellow, bro," Jerry threw back over his shoulder.

Jarod came down to the main area. "And Augur created that virus that took out the Taelon systems about a year ago."

"Impressive," smiled the young man. 

"And you are…?" Augur growled suspiciously. Liam suppressed a grin at how much his friend suddenly sounded like Jonathan Doors.

"My name is Jerry, short for Jarod,." A mischievous smile lit up his face. "As for who I am, well, I'm him and he's me. Say, do you have anything to eat? I'm starving!"

"Yeah, there's some stuff over on the table," said a bemused Augur. "What the hell does he mean, you're him and he's you?" Jerry returned with one sandwich stuffed in his mouth and another in his hands.

"Jerry is my clone," Jarod answered, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Your clone? But the Taelons have only been here for a few years," Liam said. Was it possible that there was someone else who could understand what it was like to be adult without having actually grown up?

Jerry swallowed a huge bite of sandwich. "The Taelons! That's a laugh!"

"You remember I told you that I was stolen as a young child by the Centre?" Liam nodded. "I was trained to solve problems, and they sold the solutions. The Triumvirate," and his voice dripped with scorn, "decided they could make more money with more Pretenders. After nearly three hundred failed attempts, their scientists were able to create Jerry."

"'Oh, what a piece of work is man!'" quoted the young Pretender softly. "Jarod freed me when I was eleven."

"So that's why we had to have that logo on the truck!" Liam realized. "They're still in business?"

"Oh, yes," grinned Jarod malevolently. "I like to keep them on a short leash."

"Keep your friends close," began Augur.

"And your enemies even closer," Jarod agreed. "Hey, can I have a bite of that sandwich?"

***

Agent Ronald Sandoval studied the console before him diligently. He'd been running the plates on the van used in Da'an's abduction for the past hour, following dummy registration into dummy corporation, into shell company, further and further. And it hadn't been easy, what with all the commotion Emma Weston had been causing. He'd briefly considered taking offence at the trained monkey remark, but decided against it. Weston was only a temporary feature; Ronald Sandoval was the permanent fixture, so long as he continued to do his job well. And once he'd cracked this last corporate registration, he would be able to provide Zo'or with the names of Kincaid's co-conspirators. From there, it would be a short step to locating Da'an. Then, it would be time to make those who thought they could interfere with Companion Security pay for their mistake. The display screen flashed up the information he had been waiting for. "Zo'or," he announced, "we have the registration on the vehicle used by Da'an's kidnappers. It's a company located in Blue Cove, Delaware, run by a Mr. Lyle." He frowned at the screen. "It appears they have several contracts with us."

"Then send them word the contracts are cancelled. Use all appropriate means to ensure they understand the message," the Synod Leader ordered.

"Of course, Zo'or," Sandoval replied, keying in the command that would summon a Volunteer squadron.

***

The bakery was nearly deserted by the time Emma stopped in. Just on her way home, it was the perfect place to pick up a half-dozen bagels for the week's breakfasts. No clerks were in sight; she waited a few minutes, then dinged the bell impatiently. Another minute passed before a tall, dark-haired baker ambled out to assist her.

"Can I help you, miss?" Jarod asked. The television mounted in the corner blared away the latest headlines.

"We'll have more on the continuing search for the North American Companion as the story develops. Ona?" "A third night of rioting in New York and Los Angeles, and new reports coming in from Detroit, Dallas, and Atlanta. We go now to our Dallas affiliate…"

"Yes. I'll have one poppy seed, one sesame, one multi-grain…" Emma placed her order almost at random. Jarod's presence could mean only one thing: Liam was ready to rescue the captured Resistance members. 

"That'll be $9.75," Jarod informed her. Emma opened her purse and began to search for the change. She placed her global on the glass counter, as directed, paid Jarod and took her bagels.

"Miss?" he called after her. "Don't forget your global. I hear everything you need to know is on these things." Returning to the counter, she grabbed the global and headed home.

Inside her apartment, she double-locked the door, dropped the bagels on the kitchen table, kicked her pumps in the general direction of the bedroom, and flopped on the sofa. Activating the global Jarod had given her and pressing Play, she prepared to receive her instructions for the implementation of phase two. 

She wasn't prepared for the slow roll her stomach performed when Liam's face appeared.

***

"I'll take the call in my office, Grace," Abby Franklin informed her assistant. Her stock had certainly gone up at the network since her dramatic maiden voyage on the Mothership. A full-time assistant, a private office, a series of primetime specials--she was well on her way to becoming the greatest comeback story next to Jerry Springer, after that hard-news series he'd done on changing teenage values in millennial America.

She patched the call through the desktop monitor, and turned on her security measures. Only her best sources had this number, and they expected a certain amount of intimacy in their conversations with her. "Abby Franklin," she answered.

"Abby, it's Liam." On the other end, Liam paused. Did he need to give his whole name? She should recognize him, shouldn't she? 

Abby's heart was pounding furiously. It was him! All the trouble he was in (and she'd seen the footage from Da'an's aborted speech) and he'd called her! "Liam!" she exclaimed happily. "Where are you? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, thank you. Listen, Abby, I don't have a lot of time. How would you like to have an exclusive interview with the North American Companion?"

***

She was shivering and she was cold. Stamping her feet against the pavement in a vain effort to get warm, Abby hoped that someone, preferably Liam, would open the door to this deserted warehouse soon. As if in answer to her unspoken prayer, the door swung wide. A tall older man with dark hair greeted her. "Abby? I'm Jarod," he said with a smile. She shook his hand and followed his lead further into the building. They passed through another set of doors, into a brightly lit studio area. Two chairs were placed on a podium, surrounded by cameras. And coming toward her was Da'an, North American Companion.

"Miss Franklin," the Taelon began. "We are very grateful that you have agreed to host this interview this evening. The information I wish to reveal is of the utmost importance to the human race."

"Da'an, the honor is mine," she returned, trying to see around Da'an's shoulders. Where was Liam? "I, ah, I was expecting Major Kincaid to be here."

Jarod answered her. "I'm sorry, Abby, Liam has…another engagement this evening. Well, let's get started." He ushered the other two up to the stage.

"But I don't even know what this interview is about!" protested Abby.

"Don't worry, you'll do fine," smirked Jarod. "You know you always think better on your feet. In five, four, three…" and he backed away into the darkness. The broadcast lights blinked on all the cameras, and she was on.

"Good evening, I'm Abby Franklin."

***

"Zo'or?" Emma's voice was raised to carry across the bridge of the Mothership. "I think you'd better see this." She transferred the broadcast from her terminal to Zo'or's data stream.

"…the North American Companion, Da'an. Welcome, Da'an, and thank you for being here with me this evening." Abby turned to face Da'an.

"What is this? Where is it coming from?" the Synod leader demanded. 

Emma suppressed her instinctive response, then answered as a proper Taelon employee should. "I don't know. She was supposed to have the Vice-President on tonight."

"Can you locate the origin of the broadcast?"

"Zo'or, that's not really my area of expertise," she reminded him.

"No, I suppose not," Zo'or admitted sullenly. "Agent Sandoval!" The implant's face appeared instantly in the data stream.

"Yes, Zo'or?"

"Track down the origin of this broadcast. I believe you will find Da'an there," said Zo'or smugly.

Emma paid no attention to Sandoval's acknowledgement. _Abby Franklin, for crying out loud! Really!_ She continued fiddling with the controls, trying to appear as if she were complying with Zo'or's orders. Calling up the monitoring codes for the Taelons' Earth-based installations, she carefully deactivated communications and security for five of the buildings where Resistance members were being held.

"William Boone was more than just my Implant…he was my friend," continued Da'an from the data stream.

***

"I still don't like this plan," grumbled Augur from their hiding place in some bushes just outside the so-called research facility where Julia and the other members of her cell were imprisoned. _Research!_ he scoffed. _I've got a pretty good idea of what kind of research is going on in there._

"What, you mean just the three of us against all those guards and Taelon security measures?" asked Jerry off-handedly. "Piece of cake, right, Liam?" A startled Liam glanced up from scanning the prison's defensive perimeter.

"Uh, yeah, sure, whatever," the distracted Protector answered.

"See, Liam agrees with me," Jerry offered. Liam could just imagine the sarcastic grin Augur was giving Jarod's clone at this very moment. _Come on, Emma, where are you?_ he pleaded silently. He shouldn't have let her return to the Mothership. If something were to happen…and as he had many times in the past days he found himself, with perfect clarity, remembering that moment in the sewers when he had kissed her. He sighed unconsciously. 

"Bored, are we?" Jerry crouched down beside him. "Don't worry, the indomitable Emma will come through." Just then, the scan shifted from red to green. 

"Yes!" whispered Liam. "C'mon, the door is open!" They started in the direction of the lightly-guarded side entrance.

***

In the darkened control room of the makeshift studio where Abby Franklin was getting the biggest interview of her life, two figures shifted from computer to computer, in a desperate race to keep the broadcast on air long enough to allow the Resistance raiding parties to free their fellow members. One was calm and assured, despite a growing consciousness of the hour, while the other had no qualms whatsoever about expressing his, well, qualms.

"Jarod, they've broken another encryption!" Broots called. His hands danced nervously over the keyboard. 

Though he knew the answer perfectly well the Pretender answered patiently. "How many does that leave us?" 

"Only fifty…at this rate they'll have tracked the signal completely in another hour!" The balding computer genius spun his chair around to face another monitor. "Oh, why am I here?" he moaned.

Jarod laughed out loud. Same old Broots, no matter what. "Because you know you're doing the right thing," he encouraged his one-time pursuer.

"Because Miss Parker made me," muttered Broots, adding another layer of protection to their broadcast signal. Jarod intertwined his own programming around it.

"And how is Miss Parker doing these days?"

Now it was Broots's turn to chuckle. "Grateful for the raid on her brother's operations. The Taelons canceled every project she's been opposing." The chair swiveled again, bringing Broots face-to-face with the man whose capture could assure his future at the Centre. "Jarod? Are you really sure Mr. Lyle is Miss Parker's brother?"

Jarod smiled mysteriously as he adjusted the system to compensate for some static. Abby's voice was incredulous. 

"Da'an, are you saying that William Boone was…murdered by Zo'or, and then resurrected?"

***

Julia Cook was shocked into consciousness by the sudden absence of light and noise from her cell. Ever since she had been captured, however many days ago that had been, they'd left the damn stereo and lights on full blast. No doubt expecting them to crack from sleep deprivation, or something. It was apparent not one of their captors had ever tried to cram for finals at a major Eastern university. 

"Julia?" Her cellmate, a timid thing who'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time, fumbled her way through the darkness. "What's happening?"

"Shh!" she commanded. "I'm trying to listen." Which she did. But heard nothing. Still, a power failure meant opportunity, and she wasn't one to waste opportunity. "Sam?" she called softly. The Resistance member in the cell opposite hers grunted back. "Get ready," she warned. Now she heard footsteps approaching, then a muffled conversation.

"What do you mean the doors are electric? Who designed this place anyhow?" a voice complained. The corridor lights switched on, and the cell doors opened.

"Who's ready to go home?" called a familiar voice, perhaps the dearest voice she could have hoped to hear at that moment. She stepped out into the hallway to greet Liam.

"Well, it's about time." She took in the two accompanying her leader. "Augur. And you are?" she asked.

"Jerry." 

"Charmed, I'm sure," she muttered. Replacements, already? "Liam? Let's blow this popsicle stand."

"Everyone, we're heading out into the woods, okay? From there, you all need to disappear. Lay low and don't worry. The Resistance is far from over. We will be reorganizing and we will be needing your help. Let's go!" Liam turned and led them out of the building. 

Guards were slumped here and there against the walls, bumps, bruises and cuts mute evidence of how Liam, Augur and Jerry had entered the building. People poured out of the exit and vanished in all directions. "This way," directed Liam as Julia glanced into the main checkpoint office. All the screens but one were blank; on the live screen was Da'an. She strained to hear him as Liam hustled her out of the building.

"I gradually realized Lazarus was more than he seemed…"

***

The bridge of the Taelon Mothership was not a good place to be, view or no view, Emma decided. She'd brought only the security grids back up for the five facilities, leaving communications down as Liam had instructed, and now was standing next to Zo'or, watching Abby wrap up the interview. Even though she'd heard the story before, even though she'd had days to get used to the feelings Will's suffering aroused in her, she still found it difficult to listen to. And knowing that she was standing next to the creature who had caused that suffering was not helping. _Rendezvous then I'm through with you_. The late 90s lyric popped unbidden into her head.

"Well, Miss Weston?" began Zo'or, "how do you plan to exploit this latest disaster?"

Emma closed her eyes briefly, riding out the sudden surge of rage evoked by Zo'or's voice. But when she opened them, she was met by the picture of Will Jarod was using to close out the broadcast. Almost involuntarily, she moved toward the data stream. _Time and past to end this story_, she thought.

"Miss Weston?" His sneer permeated every syllable of her name.

She faced the Taelon. "Is it true?" she asked. She no longer cared what emotions her voice was projecting--hatred, fear, disgust--it didn't matter.

"I fail to see the significance of the question."

"Is it true?" she repeated with more intensity. Could there be even the remotest possibility of a lie, could it not have happened…

"Whatever I have done, has been done for the betterment of both Taelons and humans," Zo'or proclaimed.

"Is it true?" Each word was a separate drop in the ocean wash of bridge noise.

"It is," the Synod Leader admitted without a hint of remorse. 

The last tiny, wild ember of hope turned to bitter ash in Emma's mouth. Her stomach turned and she exhaled. 

"Then I suggest you pray, Zo'or." Her tone brooked no opposition as she strode rapidly toward the exit.

A stunned Zo'or watched her leave. This was not the Emma Weston he had observed over the past ten days. And then he realized what he had misread. Rising out of his command chair, he interposed himself between Emma and the exit.

"I think I'm done here," she said forcefully, trying to get past him. Zo'or smiled.

"We are far from done," he replied, grabbing her wrist with lightning speed. Pressing his palm against hers, he initiated the sharing that would finally show him everything he needed to know about the Resistance.

***

In the tunnels leading from the warehouse back to Augur's lair, Da'an suddenly gasped and nearly fell against Jarod. Waving off the Pretender's offer of assistance, he straightened and began moving more swiftly. "Da'an?" Jarod asked.

"I am well." He blushed blue. _Such sorrow! _"We must hurry."

***

Zo'or flared his nostrils in frustration. He was getting nowhere. These feeble human minds were incapable of sustained thought, constantly flitting from topic to topic. He would have to apply a more direct approach.

Emma shuddered; the feeling of Zo'or's thoughts against her own was indescribably revolting. And then, somehow, it changed--the pressure increased until only it remained. "Tell me about the Resistance," it hissed. _Resistance?_

She was six years old, eating her Hallowe'en smarties in the playground, when Randy Stevens pushed her down. Smarties went flying everywhere; she started to cry. "Get lost, loser," ordered a confident voice. "Are you okay?" and Emma looked up into the face of her twelve-year-old deliverer…

"We can't take her, she's only ten," Sarah Boone had protested, but the boys had overridden her and she had gone to the movie. "What did you think?" Jonny asked. Perfectly naturally, she answered, "I liked it, but I thought the resolution was forced too early," and she thrilled to the look of happy surprise in Will's eyes…

With all the passion of her seventeen years, she argued, "Will, the United States has no business dictating to other nations." "Emma, their policies are wrong, and people are dying. We can help." "How does war help those who are dying? It only leads to more death." "You're a pacifist at heart, Emma Weston," he accused half- laughingly…

Home at twenty-two, she ran into Will for the first time since his discharge from the SI War. "About Jonny, Emma, I'm sorry," he stumbled. To hide her angry tears she turned away…

Four years later, she danced with a radiant, tuxedo-clad Will at his wedding, her heart breaking…

3 A.C., and she was poured into a fabulous red dress with her hair done just so. Deryck, her editor, presented her to the new Protector to Da'an, and her heart leapt at Will's astonished expression…

Disembarking at the airport, she inhaled the fresh spring air. What a wonderful time for beginnings! Joshua met her at the gate, took her hands, and tried to sit her down, but over his shoulder, she could see the vid broadcast "…the loss of Companion Protector William Patrick Boone…" She didn't cry, not then, not until later…

"And when the experiment backfired and Lazarus began to recall Boone's memories, Zo'or let him be killed again…"

It was not fair. It was wrong. It tore at her soul, and opened places where she had carefully walled off grief and pain. The pressure increased, searching, pushing, and she just didn't care. She let herself fall, fall into the pit of sorrow, allowed herself to feel as she hadn't been able to since she'd learned the truth. _Will_, she mourned as she fell…

The Volunteers on the bridge moved about their assigned tasks uncertainly. Though Zo'or had given no specific instructions, the lengthy absence of commands was unnerving. The two figures in front of the main exit from the bridge had been fixed in place for several minutes, a faint glow illuminating the joined palms of the Synod Leader and his newest advisor. Emma was breathing harshly and blood trickled from her nose.

Zo'or pressed harder, past Emma's foolish memories of Boone. She had hoped to hide the truth from him, but he had caught the flicker of thought that would lead to her Resistance connections…

On the bridge, Emma suddenly snapped back to consciousness. She whipped her hand from Zo'or's grasp and shoved past him to the exit, running for her life. Zo'or's eyes opened seconds later, and he staggered slightly. Recovering, he screamed, "Capture her!"

Emma pelted down the corridor, nauseous and lost. She was trapped on the Mothership, no way to escape…except one. She made an abrupt left, pulling up Liam's instructions whole from her memory. Only two more turns, and she should find it. One, two, and she was there, at the unguarded Mothership portal. Unguarded because who could use it besides Taelons and their servants? She entered the sequence of symbols that were the coordinates for the Washington embassy, blood dripping onto the screen. Wiping her nose on the back of her hand, she had only time to reflect that _Mom won't like that -- this is a good jacket_ as the portal sent her into interdimensional space.

***

"Zo'or! The Mothership portal has been activated!" called a Volunteer.

"Im-" Zo'or began, then stopped himself. The important thing was to capture her; obviously she was someone of great significance in the Resistance, perhaps as great as the vanished Captain Marquette. "What were the coordinates?"

"The Washington embassy." Da'an's former home. Of course. Zo'or called up Sandoval.

"Zo'or," the implant was surprised. "I was just about to make my report. We've found the location of the-"

"I have new orders for you. You must locate and capture Emma Weston. She is at the Washington Embassy. The guards there have been alerted and await you." Zo'or's tone was even more arrogant that usual. How had she managed to escape the sharing? No human should have that power.

"Emma Weston?" Sandoval appeared confused.

"Do not question my orders, Agent Sandoval," Zo'or snapped, ending the transmission. 

Sandoval closed the global thoughtfully. _Emma, I hope I find you first_.

***

The I.D. portal in Da'an's office shimmered into life and Emma hurled herself out of it. She had to keep running, or they would catch her. They couldn't catch her; that would be very bad. _"Gotcha!" Jonny's voice called_. She shook her head to clear it. She had to get out, get back to Augur's. _"What can I say? You got me." _She raced up the ramp and into the hallway. Down the hallway, into the stairwell. _"Emma, I couldn't love you more if you were my own sister."_ Down the stairs; she tripped, fell most of a flight, picked herself up. _"Mom? What's wrong?" "It's Jonny. Oh Emma…"_ Out into the embassy's lobby, moving with all the speed she had. Guards came after her; she dodged to the left, shoved past one on the right and burst through the main doors. "_So, you want me to go to the Mothership, convince Zo'or that Da'an is just the tool he's been looking for to control the human population, then set up an assassination attempt from which the Resistance will rescue him. Was there anything else you wanted while I'm out?" _Into the park across the street. The stage was still standing, the hole from Sandoval's skrill blast marked by a splintered edge. She raced on, not knowing if the guards were coming after her. Bright light stabbed down the street. Emma ducked back into the alleyway, her heart pounding furiously. _"Take these three in, Jonesie. Damn anti-war protesters!" and she and Joshua exchanged furtive, excited glances._ The light passed, and she took off again.

***

"I'm going after her and that's final." The door slammed shut on all their protests and Liam sighed in relief. He knew all the reasons to wait for Emma to find her way back to the hideout on her own, starting with the increased patrols looking for Da'an now that he had spoken openly about Zo'or. And as the Resistance leader, he should stay safely hidden away; Jarod and Jerry both had offered to look for her. But he couldn't shake the creeping fear that he'd seen mirrored in Da'an's eyes when the Companion had told him of the disturbance in the Commonality. He popped his head out of the manhole on the east side of St. Michael's church, and took a careful look around before hauling himself out onto the grass. His knee creaked in protest. _Only eight months old, and going downhill already_, he snorted to himself. Still, it had been a long night: getting to Julia's prison, subduing the guards, releasing the prisoners, getting back to the lair, discovering that absence didn't make the heart grow fonder, as Julia's attitude brought back all the old tension to his shoulders and neck…Liam faded back into the shadows as the slap of running feet crossed the churchyard. 

It was Emma, her blonde hair in disarray, heaving breath frosting the November air. She scrabbled at the church door in blind panic and finally succeeded in opening it, nearly falling though. Liam closed his eyes in silent thanks, and listened carefully for pursuit. Hearing nothing, he followed Emma into the church.

__

"Did you think that you could escape our psychic link?" Emma whimpered. The windows of the church seemed to glow with an unearthly light. Why had she thought she would be safe here? Her entire being froze in place as she heard footsteps approaching. A voice called her name. She sprang up, tripped, and fell in the open space just in front of the altar. "Emma," repeated the voice. It was Liam's, but coming from a glowing humanoid figure. "Are you okay?" it said with concern. She blinked and it was just Liam, bending down to offer her a hand up. No glow, just red-brown hair and green eyes and bitten lip. She took his hand and every nerve ending in her body prickled in warning.

__

Siobhan Beckett was floating in mid-air, enveloped in swirling bands of white which originated in the palms of Agent Ronald Sandoval. The energy vortex dissipated and Beckett was lowered gently to the ground by Ha'gel and his host. "Ha'gel!" called William Boone. Sandoval's body turned to face the Protector, shaqarava ignited. "Together we stand a chance of defeating the Taelons!" The Kimera appeared to be considering the offer, until the doors to the church burst open. He aimed the shaqarava towards the new threat. "No!" cried Boone, firing his skrill to prevent the loss of innocent life. The blast hit home, but not before Ha'gel sent a return shot from the shaqarava. Boone was thrown against the pillar, mortally wounded.

Emma had gone limp on the floor. Liam pulled her up and carried her to the Resistance elevator. _What the hell was that? What did Zo'or do to her?_ She stirred as the elevator began its descent.

"Liam?" Her voice was shaky. And she was having some trouble focusing clearly on her surroundings. Her feet were on the ground; she was pretty sure of that. The blur resolved itself into Liam's face. "Oh, gods," she breathed. "That was you! That was your…" She swallowed down a wave of nausea. 

"Shh," Liam crooned. Greatly daring, he smoothed down her hair and cradled her closer as she buried her head against his chest. The elevator doors opened onto a hubbub of activity. 

"Liam! You found her!" Jarod called. The two made their way down the steps to where Da'an was waiting for them. Emma looked up to meet the Taelon's compassionate blue eyes.

"Zo'or…" was all she could manage. She raised a trembling hand to wipe away the trickling nosebleed, and Liam realized with a start that the back of her hand and her sleeve were covered in blood.

"He forced a sharing with you?" Da'an's voice was horrified. Emma simply stood there, breathing in great gulps of air. _"Who is this Liam Kincaid?' she'd demanded from Joshua. "I don't know. He served with Boone in the SI War." "That's not the same picture I saw before," she insisted. Joshua rolled his eyes at her. "Emma," he said gently, "give it up. I know you grieve, and there's nothing wrong with that, but he's gone."_

"Sharing?" demanded Doors. "You mean telepathic sharing? We have to evacuate immediately! Zo'or could know everything by now!"

"In which case he would have already been here," retorted Liam. "Da'an, can you do anything to help her?"

"I can share with her again to determine the full extent of what Zo'or learnt," the Taelon offered. Emma stiffened.

"Do I have to?" she asked in a tiny voice. Liam caressed her hair reassuringly. She took a deep breath. "Very well." She said as she extended her hand to meet Da'an's. As their palms touched, she flinched. "Emma," cautioned a voice; she couldn't tell whose. Her view was narrowed to the pale blue alien standing in front of her. 

"No, I have to do this," she asserted. Pressing her hand more firmly against Da'an's, she allowed her eyes to drift closed.

After several long minutes, Da'an moved his hand away from Emma's. She opened her eyes slowly, breathing calmly. "Thank you," she said to him. "I never knew..."

"It is I who must thank you," the Companion replied gently. "You have allowed me to see a side of William I could not have otherwise known." Da'an addressed Liam. "Zo'or has his suspicions of Emma, but he could confirm nothing. We Taelons are not used to dealing with strong emotions such as those Emma has about William. I believe the…discomfort…allowed Emma to escape before he could force any damaging information from her."

Liam was about to thank Da'an when he was interrupted by a fanfare from the holo-program. She was wearing a glamorous sparkling gown with a sash carrying the number 1,000,000 on it. "Augur!" she announced excitedly. "We've just had our one-millionth hit on the website!" Augur grabbed Julia, who happened to be standing next to him, and spun her around in a bear-hug, whooping.

***

Zo'or opened the data stream to the transmission from Sandoval. "What is the status of your search?" he demanded.

The implant looked uncomfortable. "We have teams searching in a five-mile radius out from the embassy, but their sweep is nearly complete." He hesitated a moment, then continued. "There is no sign of her, Zo'or."

"Continue searching!" he ordered and waved the link closed. He had to find her, had to know how she had managed to escape from him. Was it her connection to…_him_? He couldn't even think the hated name. The thief who had stolen Da'an's attention, then his sympathy. It hadn't been that voice he had heard, just before the sharing was so abruptly ended. That couldn't have been Boone's voice. _"I won't let you hurt her, Zo'or." _There was no room for that voice in the Taelon who was Synod Leader.

***

Sandoval put the global away and took one last look at Saint Michael's Church. He turned to rejoin the group of Volunteers waiting a few feet away, their attention centered on a public access vid terminal.

"William Boone was more than my Implant; he was my friend…"

TO BE CONTINUED


	4. A Congenial Atmosphere

Copyright 2001, Zelda. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reposted in part or in full without written permission.

Disclaimer: _Earth: Final Conflict_ and all its characters are the property of Tribune Entertainment and are used without permission. Jarod is the property of the Centre; _The Pretender_ and its characters are the property of NBC Television, and are also used without permission. And I should include South Park in the list of things I've borrowed without permission. Guess my first-grade teacher was right. I do have no respect for other people's property.

Rating: PG-13 

A Congenial Atmosphere

an Earth: Final Conflict story

By: Zelda

__

Note: No cameos this time around, thank heavens. But remember how Jarod said he could be anyone he wanted? He ain't kidding, friends. Unfortunately this fabulous talent does require a certain over-obsessive personality, which, I imagine, would get rather grating after long exposure … This chapter is freshly published, so please review! (And if anyone can help with the HTML spacing thing, I'd be grateful.)

__

Just outside Washington, D.C.

Dec. 18

Julia quickly scanned the crowded promenade, marking the access points, public comm terminals, and looking for the Resistance member the West Virginia cell had promised. Though there was no sign of her contact, he wasn't due to show up for another five minutes. Meaning she had just the time she needed to check in. Grabbing an empty booth at the comm unit, she dialed the number, tapping her foot impatiently until a bland, sexless voice answered. "Designation?"

"This is 765859642," she answered.

"Report."

"Lois Lane has rejoined Superman; the old fox isn't ready to come out of the den. Rebuilding continues in the Eastern regions; cells are active in Boston, New York, Charleston. West Virginia is being reactivated today. Weapons are still a problem as most sources have dried up. Mr. Blue has gone into hibernation and has been unavailable for up to four days at a time. End of report."

"Proceed as usual, 765859642. Report at the next opportunity." Julia hung up the phone and finally saw her contact moving towards her. "Mitch!" 

***

__

Dusseldorf, Germany

Dec. 18

Stephanie Reidbrecht unlocked the door to her flat and began the long climb up the stairs. Carrying the marketing up two flights hadn't been her idea, but Katerina had begged for the apartment from the moment they had first gone through it. And she had to admit, the view from their windows _was_ fantastic. "Katerina!" she called as she neared the top of the stairs. Oh, she could manage the door on her own. But it would be reassuring to know her daughter was home from school, instead of hanging around with David and his crowd. Kat would never understand her mother's fears. _Or it's equally likely_, Stephanie rephrased, _she chooses not to understand them_, but lately, with things so uncertain between the Companions and humanity, Kat's flirtation with Liberation sentiments could have very serious repercussions. _Perhaps it's time to move again,_ she considered. _Get her away from David's influence_. She shoved the door open with her hip.

"Katerina!" she called again, more urgently. Placing the two paper bags on the kitchen table, she went into the living room. Her low expectations were not exceeded -- Katerina was not there. The bedroom door was open, and there was no music blaring. In short, none of the signs that a fifteen-year-old girl was present. Stephanie passed the answering machine, a late twentieth-century relic (_And who'd have thought I'd live long enough to say that!_ she laughed at herself) and noticed that the message light was blinking. She pressed play.

"Mom?" Katerina's voice was hesitant. _Probably going to miss curfew again_. Stephanie sighed. "It's Kat. Ummm, I have something really important to tell you. I thought about going by the library, but I figured that you'd be pretty mad when you found out, so I'm just leaving you the message, okay?" A pause, while her daughter gathered the courage to confess. "I know you don't like me hanging out with David and those guys, but Mom, they're right. The Taelons are lying to humanity; I just know it. And I can help fight them, Mom. I'm joining the Volunteers to find out what I can. Don't be worried. You know I'm really smart and I blend in well -- they won't suspect a thing, I promise. So I won't see you for a while, cause they send you out right away. I love you, Mom, but this is just something I have to do. Please understand. Please? Bye." The tinny voice echoed in her head; very suddenly, it seemed that her knees would no longer support her, and she braced herself against the back of an armchair. This could not be happening. She would not lose Katerina, too. Grabbing her purse and keys from the table, she clattered rapidly down the stairs and turned in the direction of the coffee house where David's so-called Liberation group gathered. Maybe it wasn't too late to stop the whole thing.

Maybe.

***

__

Washington, D.C.

Several hundred feet underground

Dec. 15

"Chow's on!" called Augur as he carried in the candied yams. Cooking dinner for seven was not his idea of the perfect afternoon's entertainment. Of course, neither was playing host to eight guests, four of whom looked like they were settled in for the long haul. _At least Jarod and Jerry have someplace else to go! I'm stuck with Doors until this whole thing blows over!_ He hadn't even let Liam, supposedly his friend, stay with him for longer than a few days, although the guy was a newborn and technically unable to fend for himself. And now it had been nearly a month. He didn't know how much longer he could stand it.

Augur tweaked the cloth on the long table one last time and yelled again. "Dinner!" Damn, he sounded just like his mother! In the distance, he could make out the sound of Holo-Lili helpfully clanging the dinner bell. At last people starting coming down the hallway: first Emma, Jarod and Jerry in an animated discussion, with Julia eavesdropping hot on their heels. Doors hobbled in behind them, the injuries he'd received escaping from the Taelons nearly healed. Finally Liam stalked in, directed one resentful glare to Emma and the open seat beside her, and sat down next to Doors. 

Emma looked at Jarod beseechingly. He knew exactly what that glance was asking, too. _Please help me_, it said. _I didn't mean to make him angry with what I said, and I just can't go to him and apologize. So you do it. You smooth things over, 'kay? Then everything will be just the way I want it, and I won't have to do anything to get it._ Some days he really hated being a Pretender. And why was there never any spray cheese when he wanted it?

***

__

Dusseldorf, Germany

The Starbucks on Friedrichstrasse

Dec. 18

"I beg your pardon?"

David Schellenberger squirmed in his seat. Ice-blue eyes bored into his soul, hunting his insecurities and faults. "She volunteered," he offered lamely. 

"She is only fifteen. There is no possibility of her volunteering. She isn't old enough." Stephanie spoke slowly, in the increasingly vain hope that this blustering idiot would understand her. 

"Fifteen? She said she was seventeen!" Righteous indignation illuminated David's features. "We can't have people lying…"

"Shut up!" Her patience was exhausted. "Where did she go?"

"The Volunteer center on Neu-Taelon-Strasse," he admitted with reluctance. She stomped out of the café, and David slumped in his seat in relief. No wonder Kat had been so eager to go, with a mother like that!

***

__

Washington, D.C.

The hideout

Dec. 15 (after dinner)

Emma flinched as Julia cracked her gum yet again. _How much longer is she going to be here?_ she huffed silently, trying to concentrate on her global screen. She scrolled rapidly through the recent headlines:

'BOONE WAS TAELON VICTIM' DA'AN ACCUSES 

TAELONS DENY ALLEGATIONS OF COVER-UP

SHOULD NORTH AMERICAN PROTECTOR HAVE HAD PROTECTION?

NO SIGN OF DA'AN SINCE FRANKLIN INTERVIEW—WHERE IS OUR COMPANION?

WAS DA'AN INTERVIEW A HOAX?

'COMPANION INTERVIEW BROADCAST WAS TAMPERED WITH' SANDOVAL ANNOUNCES—ABBY FRANKLIN UNAVAILABLE FOR COMMENT

PRESIDENT PLEADS FOR DA'AN'S SAFE RETURN—ANNOUNCES EXTENSION OF STATE OF EMERGENCY

How Thompson could have ignored the interview tape Jarod had brought to him continued to baffle her. Emma sighed in frustration and switched to the plain text window she had going. _Dear Joshua_, it began, then nothing more. A burst of laughter from Augur's comfortably appointed lounge drew her attention away from the tormenting blinking of the cursor.

"What are they doing?" Julia demanded loudly. "We've got things to do, and he's sitting over there, watching TV?" 

"You could watch with us," called Liam.

"Liam, don't invite her over," Augur pleaded. "Women don't get this stuff."

"Why?" asked an instantly fascinated Liam. 

"One of the mysteries of the sexes, Liam." Jarod leaned back in his recliner. "Men love the Stooges. Women do not."

"Lili liked the Stooges," mourned Augur.

"Liam!" Julia's voice could have been used to chop wood.

"Five minutes, Julia!" Liam settled back into the sofa. "Why'd we let her out again?" he muttered under his breath.

Jerry chuckled. "Oh, she's not so bad. I bet right now, she's standing there, arms crossed, breasts heaving with indignation, her foot, at the end of her lovely long legs, tapping impatiently…" His voice drifted off. Liam edged slightly away from Jerry. "Sorry," he grinned in apology. "We've got a thing for brunettes with attitude -- runs in the family, right, old man?" Jarod rolled his eyes.

Julia uncrossed her arms from her chest and braced them on her hips as another round of snickering rolled out of the lounge. "Infants!" she snorted, and began pacing impatiently across the room. And that Weston chick was no help either, blonde head bowed over a stupid global. She seemed to believe that the revolution could be won with words alone. _But I know the truth -- the Taelons won't be that easy to get rid of._ God, she needed to get out of this place, which meant she needed Liam's okay before she set out to contact her old cell. See if any of them were left, after…for one brief moment, she was back in the Taelon prison, frozen with panic, steely with determination, biting her tongue to keep from babbling everything she knew. She stopped the recollection right there. Now was not the time -- she had work to do. She turned and continued her pacing. Her hip brushed against one of Augur's side tables, rocking it back and forth. Liam's abandoned glass wobbled in sympathy. Emma looked up just in time to see it fall, smashing into shards as it hit the floor.

"Oh, shit," Julia swore as she went for the dustpan. "I'm going to have to start charging for those," said Augur, only half-joking. That was the third glass she'd broken in the past week.

"Shoulda been four stooges, not three," muttered Julia as she began to sweep up the mess. "Will you get out of the way?" she snapped at Jerry, who was standing just at the edge of the debris. He grinned and took a half-step back. "You know, one of you could help me clean up." Her glare passed around the four men, each of whom carefully avoided meeting her eyes. "I thought as much." The last of the glass was swept into the pan, and she stalked off to dump it in the garbage. 

The image of the glass falling, tumbling end over end, replayed itself in Emma's mind. She didn't hear a word that Julia spoke. And then it came to her, the fresh idea she needed, the new gimmick that would push her revolution further forward. "Augur," she rose out of her chair, ignoring the other three. "Could I have access to the computer for a half-hour or so?"

"Sure," he replied. 

"Show me everything you can find on the Scottish Pretender…um, and seventeenth-century English and Scottish history, and the Jacobite uprising…"

***

__

Dusseldorf, Germany

Volunteer Recruitment Center

Dec. 18

"Frau Reidbrecht?" Stephanie stood as the young man entered the room. "I'm Gunther Medtner, Volunteer coordinator. You have some questions about the program?"

David Schellenberger wouldn't have recognized Katerina's mother as she answered softly, "Yes. My daughter, she joined today. I didn't agree, but I don't want her to leave without saying goodbye. Is there any way I might see her before she goes?" She made a conscious effort to continue her pleading with her eyes. _If I can just get my hands on her, then maybe there's a chance she'll get out of this._

Medtner sighed. This poor woman; obviously her daughter was the only thing left in her faded, middle-aged life. "I'll see what I can do. Please, have a seat," he gestured, setting the example at his own desk. "Your daughter's name?"

"Katerina. Katerina Emily Reidbrecht."

He typed a few characters into the computer, then leaned in more closely. "Frau Reidbrecht, I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do."

"Excuse me?" Polite disbelief colored her tone.

"All Volunteers undergo an assessment process before heading to training camp. Frau Reidbrecht, you should be very proud. Your daughter scored exceptionally highly in all categories. She's been sent directly to the Mothership. Congratulations!" The coordinator smiled inanely.

"I see," swallowed Stephanie, her fingers itching with the desire to pound that smile off Medtner's face. "Well, thank you very much for trying." She left the office. Only on the street did she allow the reaction to set in, and then only for a moment. She had not yet exhausted all her options. She started in the direction of Saint Anne's Church.

***

__

Washington, D.C.

The hideout

Dec. 15 (even later)

Jarod sighed wearily as he trudged through the dimly lit and seemingly endless corridors of the former Resistance headquarters. Just this one favor for Emma, and then, sleep. He really was getting too old for this, he reflected, as he finally tracked Liam down in the gym. 

Da'an's young protector was sparring with a punching bag in the corner. Jarod looked around the room and saw with satisfaction that there was a basketball hoop at the far end. He ducked into the equipment room on his right and soon emerged with a fully-inflated ball, which he dribbled a few times. When he judged he had Liam's attention, he called, "Hey! Up for a little one-on-one?" Liam paused, then came over. "You've played before?" Jarod inquired. The younger man shook his head. "But I've watched," he offered. "Good enough for me," the Pretender answered, then dribbled the ball in a fast break around Kincaid and sunk the first basket. They settled down to some serious play.

After several minutes of companionable silence, broken only by the issuing of commands necessary to the smooth exchange of the ball, Jarod broached the topic that had brought him to the gym. "So, want to tell me what's going on?"

"Going on?" Liam concentrated on the basket. He almost had his shot down; just a little adjustment and…

"Between you and Emma." The ball bounced off the rim again. 

"Nothing," said Liam sullenly as Jarod hustled in. "Why, you interested?" he exhaled in Jarod's ear as he blocked the older man's path to the hoop.

"Me?" _Been there, done that._ "No. You two just seemed kind of…friendly, and now…"

"Friendly," Liam snorted scornfully, snatching the ball away from Jarod and finally executing a perfect lay-up shot. Jarod passed the ball out to the young hybrid and dropped into guard position.

"What exactly did she say to you?" 

Liam stopped in his tracks, dribbling the ball with alternating hands. "Look, do you want to play, or do you want to talk?"

"Oh, play," Jarod assured him. Liam feinted right, then broke left. This time, the shot was a three-pointer, nothing but net. The boy was good, no doubt about that. Jarod dribbled the ball briefly before passing.

"She said she just wanted to be friends," Liam looked straight at Jarod. The green eyes flickered with hurt, puzzlement and anger. _Ah, youth!_

"Can I tell you something?" Shrugging a nonchalant shoulder, Liam stashed the ball under his arm.. "I've known Emma for a while, Liam. Her friendship is not something to be taken lightly. She doesn't love very often, but where she does, she loves forever. Ten to one, at this very moment, she's thinking of a way to redeem Joshua. She wouldn't even be here now, except that I asked her to help me. Three words, that's all it took. 'Emma. Help. Now.'" The sullen look was fading from the young Protector's face. "If Emma wants to be just friends, I would accept. At worst, you have Emma's friendship. At best, time passes, and who knows?"

Liam took a step toward Jarod. "Maybe you're right," he considered.

"Maybe," Jarod allowed, throwing a paternal arm over Liam's shoulders. "Can I tell you something else?" They took another step.

"Sure."

Jarod's arm dropped and knocked the ball out from the crook of Liam's arm. "That's travelling! The next three shots are mine!"

***

__

Dusseldorf, Germany

Saint Anne's Church

early Dec. 19

"Isn't this ironic." The light baritone voice preceded its owner out of the shadows. The man was in his early fifties, well-dressed, brown hair going slightly gray at the temples. "For the past decade, you have scrupulously avoided our help. And now, when one might suppose you have proven your point quite adequately, you return?"

Stephanie's mouth worked for a few moments before she could force any sound out. "It's Kat," she finally admitted. Her contact raised his eyebrows, inviting her to continue. "She's joined the Volunteers. I need to get her out. I shouldn't have to tell you what will happen if she's discovered." 

"That is…news," he admitted. "What do you want from us?"

Frustration continued to bind her tongue. "Where she is. Help getting her out. I won't ask for anything else."

"As little as possible?" Her discomfort with the entire situation was palpable. "We can provide what you ask. But there will be a price. As before."

Stephanie shook her head and began to back away. "No. No. I can't…"

"Consider carefully."

"No."

"What other resources do you have? You must have exhausted the official channels, to come to us." She continued to shake her head in denial. "We will succeed, you know that. But as long as the Taelons have her…"

"And I'm supposed to believe you're any better?"

"We have never meant any harm, to you or to Katerina. Our objective has always been the betterment of humanity. Your mother understood that." He paused, and looked her over. "You must have been prepared for this discussion, when you came here." She froze. "You knew the cost. Your daughter's future. Which will it be?"

The woman opposite him seemed to swell with tension, and then quietly deflate. Her age, the strain of the past days, fear, all told their tale on the pale face she raised to the light. "Very well," she whispered. "She is yours."

He quickly masked his elation. "Return home. We will contact you shortly." He faded back into the darkness, leaving Stephanie alone in the deserted church.

She pressed her hands together in despair. _Oh my love, what have I done? But what else could I do to save our daughter?_

***

__

Washington, D.C.

Augur's lair

Dec. 16

The others were already gathered in the meeting room when Emma arrived, slightly out of breath. She'd been polishing her idea until the last minute, and, well, it still wasn't close to perfect, but it would be a starting point. She pulled out a chair and luckily happened to look in it before sitting down. "Jarod," she began, in what she hoped was a pleasant tone of voice, "I thought we had discussed keeping your…fetishes…in your own personal area." She held the offending item out in the palm of her hand.

"Aw, Emma, come on. It's kinda cute."

"Have you taken a good look at it, Julia?" she asked. The dark-haired Resistance member leaned in, then quickly jerked her head back, eyes wide. "I didn't know they could do that!" she mumbled in shock. 

"Jarod?" repeated Emma, thrusting her hand forward pointedly. The Pretender reclaimed his latest obsession. Liam called the meeting to order, and everyone took a carefully examined seat. Emma waited impatiently as they went over the old business, discussing the reforming and rearming of the various Resistance cells. Finally, Doors was satisfied with the arrangements, and they were able to move on.

"New business?"

Emma cleared her throat and began. "I've noticed that our websites have been taking fewer hits recently, and our media presence is diminishing. We need something to give new momentum to our campaign. I've been researching movements similar to ours, and I believe we can borrow some techniques from them. If we're going to successfully overthrow Zo'or and Thompson, we'll need the general public on our side. We need a gimmick that will capture their attention, their sentiments, their loyalty. During the Jacobite uprisings in seventeenth-century Britain—"

Doors interrupted her. "That revolution was a failure. The Battle of Culloden completely destroyed any hope the Jacobites had."

"I know that," replied Emma irritably, rising from her chair. "I'm not suggesting we adopt their military tactics. But did you know that, to this day, there are still people who call themselves Jacobite loyalists? This movement had longevity, and we need that. Take the Jacobite toast, for example. During their uprising, they'd toast their king, and then smash the glasses to smithereens. It was a very powerful gesture. One which is still performed today by true loyalists."

Jarod leaned forward. "So you're suggesting we substitute William Boone for Bonny Prince Charlie? And how, exactly, do you plan to get this movement started? We all just go out and smash some glassware?"

"Not in my bar, you don't!" 

"More or less, yes. If we broke up into teams, of two or three, and hit the city's live spots, it shouldn't take more than one or two trips."

"You haven't really thought this through, have you?" said a disgusted Jonathan Doors. "It is far too dangerous, if any of us were caught, to even consider this kind of poorly conceived tripe."

"Emma, be reasonable," Liam added. "Jonathan is right; it's too dangerous."

"Well, I wasn't thinking we'd go as ourselves. We'd be disguised, of course." 

"It's not like you could wear your own clothes anyway," added Julia resentfully, eyeing the neon lycra shirt Emma had been forced to borrow when she first arrived, and had never returned.

"Thank you, Julia, for reminding me that the designer wardrobe I spent the better part of six years accumulating is now in the hands of Sandoval and Zo'or," snapped Emma. Why did they always have to pick apart any idea she had?

"And I'm sure they look lovely in them," Jerry threw in from his end of the table. Emma tried to keep a straight face, but the twinkle in the young Pretender's eyes was hard to resist. And the image of Sandoval in her special red dress really was too much. She sat back down, laughing helplessly.

"Okay, fine, it's not that great an idea." She sighed, and confessed, "It's really just an excuse to get outside. C'mon, please, can't we go outside, just for a little bit?" She turned pleading blue eyes on Liam. He cleared his throat nervously. 

"Actually, it is a good idea. It's just the execution that's lacking," Jarod reflected. "It is too dangerous for some of us to go out in public. But that doesn't mean we can't have the public come to us."

"I don't follow," said Emma.

"Augur, we still have access to that warehouse where we shot Abby's interview, don't we?" 

The hacker looked up from the screen in front of him. "Sure."

"And the equipment?"

"Safe in storage." Augur paused. "I see what you're doing. Bring the mountain to Mohammed. I like it. I like it a lot."

"What?" Doors leaned back in his chair, prepared to shoot down another cockamamie scheme. 

"We, no, you tell it, Jarod, it's your idea." 

"No, please, Augur, go ahead." 

"Well, instead of sending everyone out to hot night-spots, we create one. Fill it up with our own people, and maybe a few talkative outsiders. Then we stage the memorial glass-smashing and wait for nature to take its course. Am I correct, Jarod?"

"On the money, my friend."

"I don't like the idea of outsiders being present. They could represent a significant security risk." The old man's tone was geared to prevent any opposition.

Emma turned the idea around in her head. It was better than her original, but still not galactic. "I don't like the idea of relying on so few individuals to spread the word. If this is going to work, it needs to be a phenomenon. It's got to spread like wildfire, get out of control before Zo'or and Sandoval can get a grip on it."

"Instant pop culture?" Liam said skeptically. Emma nodded agreement.

"Ooh, I know!" Julia exclaimed. "That show…that show….on channel six….'What's up, Washington?'"

Emma turned an admiring glance at her. "That is good," she commended. "Perfect, in fact. All we need to do is get Damien a tape of the event. I know he'll push it for all it's worth."

"Okay, let's recap. We're going to start an international glass-smashing movement in honor of William Boone-" "It's a memorial, thank you," Emma interjected. "Memorial," Liam corrected himself, "by creating a bar, filming the first memorial glass-smashing, and sending the tape to this Damien from 'What's up, Washington?'" The other six nodded their agreement. "And who gets the honor of smashing the first glass?"

Six pairs of eyes remained fixed on him. Liam groaned and put his head in his hands. _I had to ask?_

***

__

Washington, D.C.

International Airport

Dec. 20

Stephanie stopped in the airport, and took a good look around her. It was hard to believe that, after so many years, she was finally home. Back in the dear old U.S. of A. She had honestly thought that she'd never come back, that there was nothing left here for her. Parents dead, Kat's father dead. Europe had seemed like the answer to all her prayers. A Volunteer came up to her. "May I see your papers please?" The soft Southern accent was like music, and just as difficult to form into words. She forced her brain from German into English.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

"Your papers, ma'am?"

"Of course," and she dug the forged documents out of her purse. She had a momentary qualm as she passed them over, but the truth was, she knew they would pass any inspection. The young man studied them briefly, and passed them back.

"Thank you, Y'all enjoy your stay," he said courteously.

"_Danke_," she murmured, and smiled. "_Bitte_, where might I find a taxi, to take me to the hotel?" 

"Right over there, ma'am," he pointed.

"Thank you." She picked up her overnight bag and set out. First to the hotel, and then, tomorrow, the contact they had given her. _Please, let me find her soon…_

***

__

Washington, D.C.

Augur's lair

Dec, 19

Checking her reflection one more time in the mirror, Emma packed up the last of her toiletries and left the washroom she and Julia shared. In many ways, Julia wasn't a bad roommate; for starters, since the rebuilding of the Resistance had begun, she was hardly ever there. And even when she was in residence, she wasn't the talkative type. But she did have a bad habit of using up the last of the toilet paper and not replacing the roll. Emma dropped off the bag in her room and proceeded down the hall. 

She caught herself counting her footsteps are she came to the elevator. _31, 32 … and avoid!_ As the doors slid closed behind her and she began her descent, Emma took a deep breath and allowed the memories come to the surface. 

"We've just had our one-millionth hit on the website!" She'd barely registered the whoops of excitement around her. She was tired, so bitterly tired. "Emma?" Da'an inquired gently, a hand coming forward to support her elbow. "What Zo'or did to you—I can only ask pardon for my race." The Companion led her slightly away from the celebration. "If there is anything I can do to aid you, you need only ask."

It wasn't until the next day that Emma summoned the strength to ask him. Da'an had announced his plan to go into a protective trance, to prevent Zo'or and the other Taelons from discovering Augur's hiding place. She followed him to the edge of the room, waiting for Jarod and Jerry to pass on their way to "acquire" the Taelon technology Da'an needed.

"Da'an?" she gathered herself. "Thank you, Liam," he said in dismissal, turning to her. "Yesterday … you said … if there was anything …" Unearthly blue eyes held hers in a level gaze. Trying to wipe her damp palms discretely on her thighs, she continued. "Show me how to stop that from happening again Show me how to defend myself." The Companion tilted his head to one side, a gentle smile warming his features. "Come in two days, at eleven. We will begin then." Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of motion as Liam finally moved out of eavesdrop range. Since then there had been six sessions in the little chamber stuffed full of Companion marvels, each more grueling than the last. _But it doesn't matter: I can stand hard work. I just can't stand the thought of that ever happening to me again._ One last turn, and she was in front of Da'an's door.

She was just raising her hand to knock when the door swung inward, and Liam barged out, attention focused behind him as he said goodbye. "Hey!" she exclaimed, jumping out of the way just in time. Liam's head snapped around. "Emma!" he responded. She smiled back. It was nice to hear him say her name without any of the negative feelings that had dominated their relationship after she'd given him the "Let's be friends" speech. _I wonder what Jarod said to him?_

"You on your way in?" he asked, then mentally kicked himself. Of course she was on her way in.

"Yeah," she answered, still smiling. "And you?' Embarrassment coloured his features. "What?" 

"Well," he began sheepishly, "since we're filming tomorrow, Jarod suggested that it would be a good idea for me to know what it felt like to be drunk, so…"

Emma's smile extended into a wicked grin. "That sounds like Jarod. Well, good luck."

"Thanks, I think. And good luck with your…" Liam gestured in the direction of Da'an's chamber. Emma's grin vanished, replaced by a pensive expression. He balled his hands into fists as she said goodbye and went in. Just one more thing to add to the list of Zo'or's crimes. Mental rape. He could only admire Emma's reaction to it; she'd sought Da'an out from the first and asked for his help. If only there were someone to help him understand the shaqarava…but there was no one. He was the last of the Kimera. And in any case, he had other, more important responsibilities. Human ones.

***

__

Washington, D.C.

Outside Saint Michael's Church

Dec. 20

Stephanie stopped on the sidewalk to admire the ornate neo-Gothic stonework of the cathedral before she went inside. The setting sun turned the light stone to buttery gold, so that the whole building glowed like a lamp in its snow-covered setting. For a moment she fancied that the light was reflecting gold on her face, just like in the movies, where people opening crates of buried treasure were always illuminated by the light reflected off the gold inside. St. Michael's was a fine example of the cathedral building art, and she'd seen a few, over the years. For some reason, these people always wanted to meet in churches. Her mouth twisted bitterly. As if the sanctity of the building could mitigate the evil of their intent. She shook her head and went in to wait for the contact _they_ had arranged for her.

__

Washington, D.C.

The warehouse district

Dec. 20

"No, no, no, no, no! Cut! Cut!" exclaimed Jarod, as he surged onto the set. "You, turn left. You, face the back, man, the back! And Liam…"

Liam turned slowly to face their self-appointed director. Small, square-framed black glasses with yellow lenses perched on the bridge of the Pretender's nose, providing the one splash of colour on the man. Everything else, turtleneck to pointy-toed shoes, was black. "Yes, Jarod?"

"Liam, friend, I'm just not getting a sense of commitment to the cause." He strode to the bar they'd built in place of the podium where Abby had interviewed Da'an. "Before you speak, I don't feel like you're really here. And the toast…it's just not working. You need to be more dashing, more …" Jarod reached forward. "What is this? This isn't the shirt I picked out for you!"

Liam folded his arms across his acrylic-sweatered chest defiantly, the new black leather jacket creaking slightly. "I'm not wearing that," he pointed his chin in the direction of the wardrobe rack, where a mesh tee-shirt hung in forlorn isolation. 

Jarod looked him over, and gave up the battle as lost. "Fine, fine, whatever. But listen, Liam, this is more than just a few minutes in a bar. This is the first move in the battle to reclaim Earth for ourselves. People need to feel motivated by you; they need to feel that everything you do is leading them closer to victory; they need to feel the Resistance is the one continuing human factor in their lives…do you understand?"

"_Though you die, la Resistance lives on!_" caroled Jerry quietly from the sidelines. Beside him, Emma stifled a snort of laughter. Jarod looked over in disgust. "Did you two have something you wanted to share?"

"Actually, yes," Emma smiled. "_God has smiled upon you this day,/The fate of a nation in your hands_," Jerry continued singing softly. She suppressed another fit of laughter. 

"First of all," she said, opening her script and crossing the stage to join them, "the whole toast thing is too wordy."

"It's what we all agreed on," reminded Jarod.

"I know, but now that I see the location, it doesn't fit. This is supposed to be a bar, not the Arts and Letters club."

"_And when you all get shot, and cannot carry on,/Though you die, la Resistance lives on!_" Jerry's voice was getting louder.

"What do you suggest?" Jarod asked, a little snidely. It had taken the seven of them two days to agree on the text of the toast.

Emma closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, they were focused on the far distance. "To those who have gone before. To William Boone."

Jarod looked at Liam. He nodded. "I can say that. That is better."

"Good. Now, as for the image problem…" Emma looked Liam over thoroughly and thoughtfully. "The sweater can stay." A triumphant grin played around the edges of Liam's mouth. "But the hair has got to go. Liam, do this." She ruffled her hair with her fingers. He copied her action. "Again. See, the image we're going for is outlaw; Zorro, Robin Hood. Liam, that's still not exactly it. Here, let me," and she stood up on tiptoe to reach the top of his head. "What do you have in here? Rubber cement?" she grumbled. "Don't you know a little dab'll do ya?" She met his eyes in exasperation as she stepped back to evaluate her efforts. "Just a bit more," she said, reaching up to arrange a lock of hair over his forehead.

"Are you quite satisfied?" Liam asked her, sarcasm edging into his tone to compensate for the turmoil aroused by her actions. Her hand stopped moving, and she slowly drew it back. A bright red spot appeared in each cheek as she realized how near she was to him.

"Very," she pronounced, retreating a step. "See, mussy hair. Makes all the difference, don't you think?" 

"_Though you die, la Resistance lives o-o-o-o-o-n!_"

Jarod turned to Jerry with a grim expression. "_You will respect my au-thor-i-tie_!" he cried in a booming voice. The entire cast, with the exception of a bewildered Liam, collapsed in a fit of laughter.

***

__

Washington, D.C.

Saint Michael's Church

Dec. 20, late evening

"_They may cut your dick in half_," hummed Jerry to himself as he crossed the snow-covered grass in front of Saint Michael's. All in together, it had been a very successful evening. Their staged event, filmed with great panache by Jarod, was now in the hands of the very ambitious Damien Taylor, a young man who obviously felt that this segment had national distribution written all over it. He slipped in the side door by the baptismal chapel, and cursed his sudden bad luck. The church was nearly deserted; there was only one person, a woman, praying, in one of the pews at the front of the church. But nearly wasn't good enough if he was going to get to the Resistance entrance. 

Jerry checked his watch. He was due back in only a few minutes, and while he could call Jarod and tell him he was coming back through the tunnels, he really didn't want to. _I'd just rather be on time, that's all. I'm not afraid of the tunnels. I'm not._ Okay, well, the truth was, he didn't like traveling underground. _And if I don't have to do it, why should I?_ He ran the probabilities as the Centre and Jarod had trained him. The woman seemed quite involved in her prayer, and it was only a few dozen feet to the entrance. It was likely that he could cross the lighted area of the church without her even noticing. And if she did, he could always say he was on his way to confession. Or just looking for the priest. The decision made, he started across the nave of the church.

Stephanie was torn: ready to leave yet afraid to go. She'd waited in the church for an hour until the appointed meeting time, and another three hours after that. But how could she leave when this was her only hope for getting Kat back? It seemed impossible to credit, that her final solution wasn't all she had thought. Paradoxically, she was relieved. If they couldn't help her, she wouldn't have to give them Kat as she'd finally promised. But if Kat's masquerade was discovered…Fear drove her into prayer more fervent than any she'd made since before Kat's birth. _Please, whoever listens, help me! Help my daughter, my child. She's in terrible danger and there's nowhere else to turn. I don't know what else to do, except ask for your help!_

Jerry was three-quarters of the way to his goal when his sneaker, wet with melted snow, squeaked on the stone floor. The noise surprised him as much as it did the praying woman. Before he could help it, he turned to see if she had heard the noise. She had, and was rising out of her pew. "Hi!" he covered frantically. "Just on my way to see the father." He smiled disarmingly. The woman said nothing, though her mouth twitched as though she were trying to speak. "So I'll just be-" The colour fled completely from her already-pale face, and she collapsed with a loud thunk on the floor. _On my way,_ Jerry finished. _Or not._ That had been an awfully loud bang. Had she hit her head? Or had some kind of attack? He couldn't call for paramedics; they'd need to know his business in the church at that hour. Especially with Thompson's martial law still in effect. No, he'd have to bring her down to Augur's, and check her out down there. He picked her up and carried her to the elevator.

***

"Okay, so it's a cartoon, about four kids, only one of them gets killed in every episode, and then they made a musical movie?" Augur kept his head bent over the console to hide his snickering. Liam had been playing Emma for close to half an hour now, making her explain, over and over, why a late nineties television show was still so relevant and funny today. She'd even tried to sing one of the songs, but had lost the tune in hopeless laughter. 

"Augur," Holo-Lili appeared, wearing shorts and a Mickey Mouse tee-shirt. "Jerry is bringing in someone without clearance." Liam and Emma were beside him in a heartbeat.

"Visual?" The hologram's data stream shifted images to show Jerry carrying a woman's body. "Anybody recognize her?" Augur asked. The other two shook their heads. 

"Is she…?" Emma questioned.

"I'm monitoring vital signs; she's unconscious, dear," Holo-Lili reassured.

Any further discussion was curtailed by the opening of the elevator doors. Jerry hurried out, turning in the direction of Augur's medical equipment. "Sorry, Liam," he called. "She was in the church when I got there. Fainted when she saw me. Still unconscious. Need to check her out." Liam, Augur and Emma trailed behind like a bemused string of ducklings. 

"I didn't realize you were that good looking," commented Emma sharply as Jerry laid the unconscious woman on the bed where Jarod had laid Doors just six weeks ago. 

"Huh?" grunted the young Pretender as he activated the bed's monitoring system. "Okay, let's run the basic scans first…looks good." His fingers gently examined her skull. "She made quite a thunk when she went down, but I don't think she'll have anything worse that a bruise." He tapped the controls a second time. "And the more in-depth scan is showing … also nothing." Jerry sighed with relief.

"What happened?" asked Liam.

"Like I said, she was in the church when I got there. I was trying to sneak across, she saw me, she fainted."

"Why bring her here?" demanded Augur.

"Couldn't call the authorities. 'S the wrong kind of attention for us." Jerry looked down at the woman's face. She was no longer young, though her hair was still blonde. From the feel it was natural, rather than colouring. She looked like, well, like somebody's mom. Somebody's mom who'd been praying so hard she was willing to ignore the curfew. Which meant…"And I think she needs help," he continued. Under his hand, she stirred. "Well, gotta go," he said.

"You're not staying?" Liam couldn't keep the surprise from his voice.

"Gotta meet Julia. Plus, the less _she_ knows about the rest of us, the better. You're supposed to be the big man of the Resistance. Better that you handle it." Jerry continued backing out of the room. "Bye!"

"Do you ever get the feeling he's not one hundred per cent reliable?" Augur asked of no one in particular. The woman on the bed groaned softly. 

"He's right about one thing, though. Augur, you might as well go, you too, Emma." Neither one moved. "She doesn't need to see all of us." Their uninvited guest lifted her hand to her head. Emma was beside her in an instant.

"Where am I?" she asked. Emma smiled at the pure predictability of human behavior. 

"Don't worry," she soothed. "You're safe." The woman had a slight accent – European, perhaps.

"Is this … are you the Resistance?" She struggled to sit up.

"We are," Liam answered.

"Thank God," she replied. "Please, you have to help me. I, I don't have anywhere else to turn; there's no one else to help me. My daughter…she's been taken by the Taelons…we have to save her…"

"We'll do what we can," promised Liam.

"But please, let's start at the beginning. Who are you and who is your daughter?" Emma asked with gentle concern.

"My name is Stephanie, Stephanie Reidbrecht. My daughter is Katerina. Please, she's only fifteen!" Stephanie looked from Emma to Liam to Augur, and began to hope.

***

__

Taelon Mothership

Dec. 21, early morning

The screen blurred in front of Sandoval's weary eyes. He forced himself to focus on the latest group of transcriptions. _Lois Lane has rejoined Superman; the old fox isn't ready to come out of the den_. He didn't need to check the designation to know whose it was; he'd had a strong feeling about this one from the moment she'd been arrested. His hands poised over the control panel, he was ready to enter a string of commands when his CVI-enhanced hearing separated out the sound of approaching footsteps from the general background noise of the ship. He hit the delete key instead as Zo'or entered, a young woman beside him.

"Agent Sandoval, permit me to introduce you to your new colleague, Katerina Reidbrecht. Kat, Ronald Sandoval, my attaché." Zo'or made an expansive gesture from one to the other. "Kat will be assisting you in your investigations into the Resistance."

Sandoval looked over the new arrival. She was young, probably no more than eighteen, with wavy auburn hair worn loose around her shoulders and deep brown eyes. "Zo'or, I do not require assistance at this time. And I shouldn't need to remind you of the security risks inherent in trusting this work to a non-Implant."

"You are wrong on both points, Sandoval," the Synod Leader retorted. "You have had six weeks in which to apprehend the leaders of the Resistance, and instead those members we had captured were liberated by, as you suppose, Kincaid and his allies. Furthermore, Ms. Reidbrecht is not a security risk. She is a full Implant, like yourself. Therefore you may explain yourself to her without fear. She has, naturally, my complete trust."

"May I ask how your work is proceeding, Agent Sandoval?"

"I have been reviewing transcripts from Project Coyote." Kat's expression remained bland. "In the initial weeks of the state of emergency, certain individuals, suspected of being in the Resistance, were involuntarily implanted with a lesser form of CVI. The main function of the implant was to enhance the subject's memory; a secondary motivational imperative requires the subject to report to us when the opportunity presents itself."

"How many people are involved?"

Sandoval closed his eyes briefly as he visualized the numbers. "Nine hundred and eighty-three individuals were implanted, although less than half have made their reports."

"And the results?"

"As yet, there has been no information which would lead us to the core of the Resistance. Several cells have been eliminated, however, and their moles released to reintegrate themselves with new cells." A quiet alarm sounded from the console. Sandoval pulled out his pocket watch, confirming the time. "If you will excuse me, Zo'or, we have tracked another cell; the raid will begin shortly. I should be there."

"By all means, Agent Sandoval. Perhaps Katerina can take over here where you have left off?"

Sandoval blinked, a blank expression asserting itself on his face. "As you wish, Zo'or," he answered. "Ms. Reidbrecht."

Kat observed the departing Sandoval with scorn. "You know that he's lying to you, don't you?" she said once the Implant was out of earshot.

Zo'or directed an amused glance at his new implant. "I had suspected as much," he stated dryly. "But your confirmation does reassure me. How do you know?"

The young woman looked confused for a brief moment. "I don't know," she finally answered. "It's not really one thing. It's more of a feeling, a sensation, almost … a taste?"

"A taste," repeated Zo'or. These humans were a constant bundle of surprises. "Agent Sandoval should not be able to lie to me, should he?"

"No. The motivational imperative prevents such behavior." Kat's eyes went wide with shock. "His MI is failing! Zo'or, this represents a significant security risk!"

"Or an opportunity for research. Agent Sandoval has been implanted the longest of any human currently serving us. That is why I have assigned you to work with him, Kat. I would like to know exactly what it is that Agent Sandoval is keeping from me."

"He deleted something just as we entered, Zo'or," Kat's demeanor was back to proper implant behavior.

"Then I suggest, Ms. Reidbrecht, that you recover whatever it was." Zo'or allowed himself a smile as the young woman seated herself at Sandoval's desk and began to reconstruct the destroyed data. Kincaid might have released his prisoners, Da'an might have escaped assassination, Weston might have prevented his forced sharing, but in the end, it wouldn't matter. He would reign over Terrans and Taelons, would defeat the Jaridians, and return his people to their rightful place in the galaxy. It was all just a matter of time.

TO BE CONTINUED


	5. Merry Christmas, Mr. Sandoval! (Part One...

Copyright 2001, Zelda. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reposted in part or in full without written permission.

Disclaimer: _Earth: Final Conflict_ and all its characters are the property of Tribune Entertainment and are used without permission. Jarod is the property of the Centre; _The Pretender_ and its characters are the property of NBC Television, and are also used without permission. However, I do promise to put everyone neatly away when I am done playing with them.

Rating: PG-13 

Merry Christmas, Mr. Sandoval (Part I)

an Earth: Final Conflict story

By: Zelda

Note: _I didn't mean for this story to get so long, but the longer these characters live, the more they have to say! Part II of this installment will bring the first arc of my series to a close. If you think that this is enough, please feel free to review and let me know (can't guarantee I'll listen, but Hey! Who knows?). And if you like the series, please write also. This episode's cameo falls to the lovely and gracious Miss Parker, and we learn why the Taelons are so interested in Kat. Plus the first ever appearance of TropicalRainforest!Augur!_

__

Taelon Mothership

December 23

Third watch on the Mothership. The bridge was nearly deserted; only a minimal crew was on station, and Zo'or was off sulking during his Taelon rest period. Ronald Sandoval exhaled, releasing the breath he'd been holding all day. This was one of his favorite times. No one observing him, no Kat looking over his shoulder. No need to pretend so strenuously. No need to act as if the MI was still fully functional. Now, he could contemplate the lazily rotating planet below, see the darkness stealing across the Earth, the gleaming jewels that were her great cities starting to appear against night's velvet background... 

"Sir!" called one of the Volunteers. "Sensors detect an object moving at a high velocity toward the Earth!"

"Origin?" he snapped, reverie sublimated instantly under the screen of his MI.

"Unknown, sir," answered the Volunteer. "But it is heading for the Earth and I am scanning an energy source."

"Can we intercept?"

"Sir, it's going to impact in less than fifteen minutes and we're on the wrong side of the planet."

"Alert Zo'or," Sandoval commanded. He could take this thing out if he moved the Mothership through I.D. space to meet it, but regrettably his authority on board did not extend that far. "Estimated location of impact?"

"Here, sir," answered another Volunteer, calling up a map of South America, a small portion of the northern interior highlighted.

"The nearest embassies are Mexico City or Sao Paolo-Brasilia," he realized.

"Too far away to get a decent shot, sir."

__

Damn, he thought. He could do nothing to prevent the landing. He'd just have to make sure that, whatever it was, any threat it might present was neutralized. Or brought to the proper hands.

***

__

Augur's lair

Same day

"I am pleased to announce that, effective immediately, the state of emergency is lifted." The press room at the White House broke out into spontaneous applause. After a moment, the President continued. "We thank our Taelon friends for their kind assistance during these times of trouble, and I now personally authorize the release of all innocent American citizens who have been detained by American or Volunteer forces. In addition, we are able to give you this evening definite evidence that the attempt on my life was made, not by a Resistance sympathizer as was originally thought, but by a professional assassin, Judson Corr." The room buzzed with questions.

A delighted Emma turned to Liam. "Congratulations, Major," she said, smiling warmly.

"You weren't so bad yourself," he returned. "If you hadn't gotten to that coroner..."

"May I remind you two that this whole thing would never have happened if not for my expertise?" Augur interjected. "After all, I was the one who put his vast computer system entirely at your disposal."

"Touché," said Emma as the vid screen behind her switched back to the studio. "That was the stunning news just over an hour ago, and now for reaction from the street, we go to Damien Taylor. Damien, what can you tell us?"

"Ona, the American public couldn't have received a better Christmas gift than their freedom." Augur turned down the volume on the rest of the reporter's commentary. Emma shook her head in mock disapproval. "C'mon, Augur, that's not fair. We owe Damien."

"Damien owes us for giving him that story!" Augur scoffed.

"True," Emma acknowledged. "Now, what are we going to do about giving him another?" Liam's eyes lit up with mischief. 

"Well," he began.

"Hold off, my friend," Augur cut in. "I'm getting something from the Mothership." A diagram appeared in the center holo-stream. Emma recognized the outline of the Mothership, dwarfed by the bulk of the Earth. A blinking light tracked across the opposite side of the planet from the ship and struck the ground, illuminating a section of northern South America. Emma rounded the stream to get a better look at the location. "See this?" Augur pointed at a series of readouts. "Something crashed, and whatever it was, had an interdimensional drive as a power source."

"Lili?" queried Liam.

"Lili," Augur confirmed. "It's got to be her. And it landed here." The holo-globe spun around so that the crash site was facing the two men. 

"But where is here?" Liam wondered. Augur began an inquiry. 

"It's Mazan," stated Emma impatiently, returning to Liam's side. "An independent province with associate status in the Latin American Alliance." Augur nodded surprised confirmation. "I assume we need to be there? And that Zo'or and Sandoval will be there as well?"

"Yes, but..." Liam began.

"Augur, a global link, if you'd be so kind?" The hacker complied, meeting Liam's bewildered gaze with one of his own. Emma dialed the number, then waited for the connection to open. The Taelon schematic disappeared, to be replaced by a young woman's face. Her bored expression vanished instantly. "Senora!" she called, and scrambled offscreen. Emma raised her eyebrows amusedly. A second later another, older woman picked up the connection. "Ysabel!" "Emma," answered the other. "We are somewhat ... distracted at the moment. I'm afraid I don't have time to chat." 

"I know. You've got an impact in the interior, probably of Taelon origin." A moment's surprise flickered in Ysabel's eyes. "I need to bring a team down there to extract it. And the Taelons will be sending their own teams. Can you arrange it so that I see the sights, and they don't, Madam President?"

"I should no longer be startled by you, blanca! Of course, what's ours is yours. And Carlos has already started his expedition. You can meet him at Jurura. When shall he expect you?" 

Emma blinked in dismay. _Oops. When? Try how? _The snick of a closing global drew her attention to Liam, who was sliding his back into his belt. "Tell her six hours," he said.

***

__

Same location, same time

Several levels below

The constant hum of machinery was an irritant that had long passed the bearable, but in an odd way, he welcomed it. As long as it was running, he knew he could maintain his protective trance. By damping and altering his own energy field, he merged with the general level of activity, becoming nearly invisible to all searchers, both human and Taelon. 

Not that his own kind were looking all that hard for him. They knew that in the end he would have to return. No Taelon had ever survived without the Commonality. Only Ma'el, but he had been both physically and philosophically removed from them. He, Da'an, was in close proximity to the Commonality; he heard it murmuring in every waking moment. It was part of the reason he welcomed the machines-they were a distraction from his present circumstances. Forced into hiding for the past six weeks, emerging from the trance like a _ghist'all_ from the cocoon, and for what? Repairing the damage that Zo'or had done? Emma had suffered no lasting damage from the attack, though the mental shields he had helped her strengthen were quite a discovery. And as for William-truthfully, there was nothing that could be done. Nothing that would not take considerable time to accomplish. _And what brings me the greatest fear is the possibility that we no longer have that time._ To ensure the survival of the Taelons, he had once been willing to do anything. Whatever was necessary, he had vowed. And now? _Have I allowed emotion to influence me away from what is required?_

There had been a disturbance on board the Mothership, after Sandoval escorted him to the holding cell. Volunteers had raced by, and he had felt the pain of the ship itself, the living ship he had helped design. Finally, Sandoval had reappeared. "What has happened?" he'd demanded and the implant had answered, "Captain Marquette tried to sabotage the engines." He had turned away in shock, been relieved at the news of her escape, but only now could he begin to accept the betrayal. Lili, whom he had trusted, who had saved his life at the risk of her own, had tried to kill him. And what might William have done, if given the opportunity, or sufficient motivation? If he had discovered who was truly responsible for his wife's death? And Liam? If Liam were to learn the real truth? _I am not the only one willing to do whatever is necessary...but their actions are to ensure the future of humanity...even at the expense of the Taelons..._

Da'an blushed an unhappy blue. _Even at my own expense..._

***

__

Washington, D.C.

Later that same evening

Liam rapped twice on the manhole overhead. An answering knock from above prompted three more knocks in reply, then a pause, then a final knock. The manhole slid off to reveal an overcast winter sky. "We've got some equipment down below," he advised, as he hauled himself out of the sewers. 

"Not a problem!" responded a voice, which, as Emma stuck her head out for her first breath of fresh air since escaping the Mothership, she saw belonged to a thirty-something man in fatigues. At his signal, two others detached themselves from the shadows and hastened down the sewer shaft. "It's good to see you again, Liam."

"And you, Colonel," Liam responded, shaking hands. "Thank you for helping us out."

"Like I said, not a problem. We're always grateful for a chance to get our hands on alien technology. And a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Cook."

Emma bit her tongue and kept her face averted as the Colonel handed her into the waiting truck, Liam following right behind her. "Thanks," he whispered. Emma rolled her eyes in the darkness. "Just keep your head down until we're there," Liam had cautioned her before they had left Augur's. She didn't understand why the deception was required, but for now, she would play along. She inhaled again. Fresh air! Augur and the equipment were quickly loaded in, and the truck rumbled off.

"The portal station we'll be using is only a short drive from here," the Colonel informed them. He leaned forward as the truck passed under a streetlight. Emma turned hastily away from him, and, coincidentally, Liam. "I see her attitude hasn't changed," he commented. Liam forced a laugh in return. 

It really was only a few minutes before the truck came to a halt and the Colonel hustled them and their equipment into an apparently deserted warehouse. Inside, another six soldiers fell in behind as Emma and the others lined up inside the portal boundaries. The portal flared, and one warehouse was replaced with another, outside of which a plane waited with engines running. With considerable jouncing around, the plane took off. "Okay, Liam," began the Colonel, "do you want to give me a more precise location to set down, or should I just play it by ear?"

"Do you have a map?" the Resistance leader countered. One was produced almost immediately. Emma drifted closer to the two as they began to discuss the topography of Mazan. "It's here that we want to set down. Jurura," said Liam definitively.

"Jurura!" scoffed one of the younger soldiers. "My recon files say that's nothing more than a dustbowl village anchored in place by a driveway that the locals call an airstrip."

"Mr. Sprockets, your opinion is noted. Liam, I've got to go with Bettis on this one," said the Colonel regretfully.

"Jurura is where we'll meet our local contact," Emma broke in. The Colonel looked up at her in surprise that deepened when he realized she was not who he expected.

"You're not Julia!"

"Thankfully, no," Emma replied, as she removed her toque and shook out her hair. "Emma Weston." She extended her hand to the Colonel.

"Colonel Liam Kincaid," he said dazedly. "_The_ Emma Weston, the ones the Taelons are looking for? Jonny Weston's sister?"

"I beg your pardon?" Emma asked in polite shock. "_Colonel _Kincaid?"

"It's a long story," Liam cut in quickly. "I am sorry about this, Colonel, but Emma is our Mazan expert. If it wasn't for her, there'd be nowhere to set down."

"Exactly what made you think you could get away with this, Liam?" The Colonel's expression was grim. "And what makes _her_ a local expert?"

"I spent a year in Mazan, during their fight for independence. And the current president owes me a favor. I did provide a distraction to local authorities while Ysabel's husband was liberated from prison." Emma spoke nonchalantly. Both Liams turned to look at her in amazement. She shoved an errant lock of hair off her face in irritation. "Trust me when I tell you we must land in Jurura. If you're capable of landing the plane there." The Colonel bridled as she excused herself and took a seat in the rear of the passenger area.

Kincaid sighed. "What is it with you and women?" he asked Liam. "No, don't answer that. Bettis!" The intelligence expert sprung to attention, swiveling his monitor to face his commanding officer. Emma's picture floated mid-screen, while her dossier flowed uninterrupted underneath. 

"She knows the area, Colonel," Liam said softly. "I've read the articles she filed during that year. And I have no reason to doubt her." The Colonel shook his head. "Neither do I, Liam. Her brother was my C.O.'s best friend, and Boone spoke of both of them with the highest respect. But I wish you'd told me before we were in the air. No more surprises," he ordered. "Guess I'd better pass this landing info on to the pilots. And you and Augur had better be ready for whatever we find when we get there."

It was only moments later when Liam shook Emma awake. "We're landing in a few minutes. You might want to belt up," he suggested, taking the seat next to her. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she complied. "_Colonel _Kincaid," she said, glancing sideways at him. There was a superficial resemblance between the two, she supposed. But no one would ever really mistake Liam's ruddy curls for the Colonel's light brown waves, nor his clear green eyes for the other's hazel brown. Nor, she suspected, would the Colonel blush quite so readily. "It was Augur," he explained. "He was reported MIA. How were we supposed to know he was undercover?" The plane jounced once, twice, then made full contact with the ground. "Oh, I see," she laughed, then hastened to undo the seatbelt as the plane finally stopped. She and Liam were neck-and-neck to the exit as the Colonel gave final orders to his troops, and then, at long last, the door opened and she exited into the faint glow of a Mazan dawn.

Liam inhaled deeply as Emma made her way down the steps to the dirt runway. At the bottom, she crouched down and touched the ground briefly, then stood and turned a slow pirouette, arms outstretched and head tipped back. For a moment, the humid tropical air was replaced by the indescribable scent that was Emma. He reveled in the sensation, then sternly forced it away, only to have it surge up again as she smiled up at him, holding out her hand invitingly. _Just friends,_ he reminded himself. _And at best, who knows?_

"Blanca!" called a deep voice. Emma spun around and was swept into an embrace by the new arrival. "Carlos!" she chided, without any force. "These are my friends, Liam and Augur, and coming out now are Colonel Kincaid and his men. What have you got for us?" 

***

__

The Centre

Blue Cove, Delaware

December 23

Parker tapped the envelope in front of her thoughtfully. Hard to believe that, after all these years, she was still here. Hard to believe that, knowing what she knew, she remained, instead of running screaming for the hills long ago. But, in another way, not hard to believe at all. She'd been driven by rage for so many years; it had driven her deeper into the arms of the Centre, deeper into its clutches, in a quest to deny those who called her mother weak, not the least of whom was her father. When that rage was taken away, she had thought she might die for lack of a motivating force. Only at that point it was too late to leave; she'd seen and done too much. Then, one day, she took a good look around and saw what she supposed her mother might have seen decades ago. That if she did just this one thing, she could make something better. And one thing led to another, and here she still was, in the end doing the same work her mother had died to do -- fighting to turn the horrific into the beautiful, the oppressors into liberators, the experiments … back into children. Quite a stretch for Daddy's little Angel. But no stretch at all for Catherine Parker's daughter. She stood, jammed the envelope into her tote bag, and strode decisively out of her office. Thank God her legs were still magnificent; how she hated those dowdy calf-length skirts!

"Miss Parker!" A perpetrator of the calf-length look stood quaking to one side. She snarled only a little as she turned to face the girl. "What?" "Umm, nothing. Just...when will you be back?" Parker lifted one eyebrow at the offender. "When I'm done." Her assistant du jour retreated to the safety of her office chair. Alright, she wasn't completely made over. But it was always good to have something to work towards.

__

Down the Street Café

New York City

The table was in a secluded, darkened corner of the restaurant, but he stood as she entered the room. He smiled ruefully as she approached. "Old habits die hard," he offered in apology as he pulled out a chair for her.

"Don't I know it," she replied. "But it's always good to watch your back. My loving brother might have recovered enough to re-activate the tail he placed on me last summer." She reached into her bag as she took a seat. "Jarod," she leaned forward to pass him the envelope, "I thought you might be interested in this." The waiter came to take their order and was swiftly dispatched. The Pretender made no move to claim the package. "What's in it?" he asked. "Why don't you tell me?" she snapped back. He said nothing. "Dammit, Jarod, I don't have time for these games. And neither do you. I should just tie you up and take you back to the Centre with me!" She glared at the man opposite her. He'd been able to do this to her since she'd been a young girl-reduce her to name-calling in seconds. "Did I mention that skirt looks fabulous?" he asked mildly.

"Jarod!" With a nod, he gave the victory to her, and opened the envelope. His expression hardened as he scanned the contents. "How did you get this?" he growled.

"Lyle. I haven't seen him this excited since Raines's funeral. So I had Broots check it out." Parker shrugged. "You know the Triumvirate-why innovate when you can renovate? Lyle's had this data trap in place for years, on the off chance that someone with the Pretender gene might wander into the Taelons's gunsights."

"And now someone has. Any chance we can get them out?" Parker nearly smiled at the "we," but shook her head in reply.

"Page two," she prompted. "She's already been implanted. Full CVI and MI."

Jarod flipped the page over and swore. "It's too late for her," she began. Jarod overrode her. "I refuse to believe that."

"But," she continued, "based on the behavior of previous implants, I have some concerns-"

"About the safety of her family," he finished. Parker nodded. "I'll look into it."

The look on Jarod's face told her that wasn't all the looking he planned to do. 

That suited her just fine.

***

__

Jurura, Mazan, South America

December 24

Augur pulled at the neck of his shirt. 

"Hot?" asked Liam, apparently quite cool.

"Ha, ha," the hacker stated. Only twenty minutes off the plane, and already he was sweating rivers. Emma was speaking quietly at the front of the room to their host, Carlos. Easy to tell this guy had spent most of his life in the jungle. Only a few inches taller than Emma herself, his skin was tanned a deep bronze. His light clothing was ripped and stained, and his boots certainly had seen better days. Emma finished her conversation and came over to join them. "What's happening?" Liam whispered.

Carlos opened a map on the table in front of him. Everyone gathered round. "I asked Carlos to make sure we found the site first," she whispered back. "Pay attention!" Carlos called, pointing to the map with one short finger. "My scouts have narrowed the crash site to this area. We'll divide into three teams, each approaching from a different angle. Luis will lead one team, Jose will lead the second-those will be made up of your men, Colonel. And myself, Emma, and her friends will make up the third. Luis will swing from the north, Jose the south, and we will travel west. Diego and Chandler will stay behind to mislead the Taelons when they arrive. Small teams are less noticeable," he glared at the Colonel, "and will make better time. Luis, you leave immediately, Jose in fifteen minutes, and we'll go in half an hour. Adios!" Carlos turned his back on the soldiers, preventing any further discussion. 

"Chandler?" Emma asked.

"His mother loves _Friends_." Carlos shrugged. "Blanca, you have enough time to change. That lycra was not made to be worn in the jungle. Ysabel sent some things-they're in the back."

"Thank you, Carlos," she said warmly.

***

__

Taelon Mothership

December 23

Sandoval pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at the dial. Nearly midnight. Five hours since the object had plummeted to earth. And they were no closer to finding it, as he was in the midst of patiently explaining to Zo'or. "We have scanned the area repeatedly, but both the topography and the geology of the area are making precise location of the object difficult. Each time we believe we have a lock, a confirmation scan gives us different coordinates. And it may even have been a sensor malfunction."

"Agent Sandoval, every moment you waste scanning gives our enemy time to become more entrenched." Sandoval glanced at the Companion's hands. He'd long ago deduced that their gesturing was by far the best guide to Zo'or's moods. They were moving in agitated circles.

"Truthfully, Zo'or," the implant licked his lips, "we have not been able to confirm that the object is Jaridian in origin."

"Nor have you been able to deny it!" Sandoval looked away, then met the Taelon's bright blue eyes. Their gazes clashed for a moment, but in the end it was the human who looked down. "I will dispatch a Volunteer squadron immediately."

"You had better, Agent Sandoval. And you had better find this...object and either destroy it or return it to the Mothership." Zo'or settled into his chair with satisfaction.

"I will lead the team myself, Zo'or," the slender man promised, and left the bridge. Kat stepped out from the shadows behind Zo'or's chair. "Follow him," the Synod Leader ordered with a languid wave of his hand.

"And the object?"

"Assess the threat, and report directly to me. I would hate to have to destroy something so ... useful." Zo'or smiled. Kat copied the gesture exactly, and departed.

***

__

Somewhere in the jungle

West of Jurura, Mazan

December 24

Liam dragged the sopping fabric of his shirt arm across his face in a vain attempt to catch some of the sweat pouring off his head. _Serves me right for laughing at Augur,_ he decided. A few metres in front of him, Carlos and Emma halted abruptly, Emma's brief ponytail flopping back and forth with leftover momentum. "What's up?" he asked as he pulled even with them. Emma passed him a canteen without comment. "Thanks," he wetly mumbled. 

"We are very close to the crash site." Carlos pointed straight ahead. "As promised, we will be the first to arrive." Emma reattached the canteen to her belt. She didn't look half as bad as he probably did; most of her hair was pulled away from her face, and the few remaining tendrils curled fiercely in the humid air. And he had to agree with Carlos-the loose linen shirt and pants she had on were definitely better for jungle trekking than Julia's leftover lycra.

"Augur?" 

With a suffering sigh, the hacking genius shrugged his pack off his shoulders and dug out a global. He popped open the screen, typed in a command, and swung the device slowly from left to right. "I make it about eight hundred metres, slightly northwest. But all I'm reading now is leftovers from the crash. The power source has been disabled, or shut down." 

"Which means we'll keep our head start on Zo'or." Satisfied, Liam adjusted his own pack, and gestured to Carlos to lead the way.

Within half an hour they were creeping through the undergrowth, the acrid smell of burnt vegetation tickling their nostrils. "Eight hundred metres, my ass," grumbled Augur, as a branch let go too early by Liam whacked him in the face. "Try two clicks, all this dammed up and down. Next time," he began, only to be hushed by the others. He hustled his way up beside them, and peered into a clearing. A thin trough straggled back through the rainforest, culminating in a heap of dirt in front of them. He dug out the modified global again, scanning the mound. He frowned briefly at the readings he was getting and entered a recalibration command. As he awaited the new results, Liam strode into the clearing.

"Oh shit," Augur muttered as the scan confirmed his initial findings. "Liam! Get down now! It's Jaridian!" But even as he shouted out the warning, a green light came lancing out of the crash site, immobilizing the surprised Protector momentarily before releasing him with such force he staggered back a few steps to land heavily on his rear. "Liam!" cried Emma, only to be held in place by Carlos's brawny arm. 

Leaning back on his arms, Liam shook his head to get rid of the ringing in his ears, then began scuttling back crabwise to the relative safety of the jungle. Jaridian! And with an ID signature-that could only mean trouble. The ground began to tremble slightly as the top of the mound shook itself clear of dirt to reveal the dark green polyhedral top of a Jaridian probe. "Oh shit," he muttered, unconsciously echoing Augur's words of moments before. The top of the probe swiveled slowly around the clearing, and aimed an orifice directly at his head. 

***

__

Elsewhere in the jungle

Kincaid surveyed his men with satisfaction. Not one of them looked undone by the heat. The best soldiers he'd led, by far. "Bettis!" he commanded. The young lieutenant snapped to attention as he reported, "Latest scans place the object approximately eight hundred metres away, sir!" 

"Excellent work, Mr. Sprockets. That'll take us about ten minutes," he said, only to be contradicted by a head shake from Luis, their local guide. "Not ten minutes?"

"No, sir," Luis replied. "Eight hundred metres this way," his hand cut horizontally through the air, "nearly two kilometres this way," and his hand scooped up and down several times. "And we go..." the Colonel prompted. "This way, sir," smiled Luis, his hand wiggling up and down in front of Kincaid's unamused face. Luis shrugged. There was just no pleasing some people.

***

__

Mazan jungle

Jaridian crash site

Emma tried unsuccessfully to free herself from Carlos's suddenly iron grip. In the clearing, Liam continued to edge slowly back towards them, while the probe remained aimed at his head. "Stay back," Carlos ordered, and Emma's quick glance at Augur reinforced the command. The hacker's jaw was clenched tight with worry, his dark eyes focused intently on Liam, until his attention was drawn away by a soft beep from his global. At the same time, Emma became aware of a low hum coming from the probe. "Liam!" hissed Augur, but again the warning was too late. A blue-grey beam shot out of the probe, straight for the leader of the Resistance.

It stopped three feet short of him. Liam was initially too grateful to wonder how the probe's targeting systems could have gone so far awry, but the mystery deepened as the blast, instead of dissipating, intensified. His eyes widened in shock as a figure solidified in front of him. From the greenery behind him, he heard Augur's sharp intake of breath as he recognized her, too. 

Emma shook her head and blinked hard to clear her vision. What in the name of the Mother was Augur's holographic program doing in the middle of the Mazan jungle? It wasn't until she heard Augur gasp that she realized it wasn't his holo at all.

"Liam," said the Jaridian projection of Lili Marquette. She closed her eyes briefly, as if to blink away tears. Liam felt his own eyes watering in response. How he'd missed her! "I don't have much time, so listen up. Obviously, I'm with the Jaridians. The last thing I remember was being in the engine room of the Mothership, and then I woke up in a shuttle, headed for Jaridian territory." Lili ran a nervous hand through her hair. "And that's the problem, Liam. The ID drive was disabled but they, they..." She looked down for a moment, then back, all business. "Liam, they can _do_ things, make you believe things-I repaired it for them. It's my fault. The Jaridians have ID technology. They're letting me work with them now. I anticipate they'll be fully converted in six months." The military demeanor faded, leaving Lili looking lost and incredibly young. "God, I miss you guys! Tell Augur-tell him, I miss him." Her head turned to something outside the recording stream, and she reached forward. The hologram disappeared.

"Lili!" Augur ran into the clearing, global in hand. He aimed the device at the probe, tapping frantically. "Give her back!" he demanded. The probe began to hum; the noise broke into Liam's consciousness. "Augur!" he reprimanded, moving to strike the global out of the hacker's grip. But his hand stopped in midair as he took in the information flowing across the tiny screen. "Looks like someone wants to talk," his friend said grimly, as the underbrush on either side of the clearing rustled and the Colonel and his men stepped out.

***

__

Augur's lair

Same day

"Are you sure there isn't anything else I can get you?" 

Jarod smiled warmly at the holographic interface. "No, thank you. Listen, I really appreciate this; I know you're a one-man program, but-" 

Holo-Lili cut him off. "One-man program!" she scoffed gently. "He's given so many people access to my systems I think I'm gonna go public. You know I could make a mint franchising myself." Lili's brown eyes danced with amusement. "And it would be good to have something to give little Augur," she mused.

"Face it, Lili. You really care," he teased gently. "And what if I do?" she tossed her head defiantly. "That doesn't mean I shouldn't look out for myself, does it?"

"I guess not."

"Call me if you need anything else. You do know how to whistle, don't you?" He obliged her with a songbird's trill. "Wise ass," she murmured as the interface dissipated. 

The laughter crinkling the corners of Jarod's deep brown eyes faded quickly as he opened the envelope Parker had given him. Inputting the anonymous DNA data and finessing the search parameters, he settled back into the chair to await the successful conclusion of his work. Half an hour later, the system chimed gently. He transferred the results into the data stream and took a step back to better view the three-dimensional security-coded projection. "Pretty," commented Holo-Lili from a secondary stream, "if you like red hair. What's her name?"

"Katerina Reidbrecht." She was pretty, but young. Very young. Just eighteen, he realized, as he continued scanning the remainder of the data he'd hacked from the Taelon database. "What'd she do?" Lili continued. 

"She's the latest Taelon implant. A friend passed me her DNA sequence. She thought I might be interested." He stepped forward to enter the command that would allow him to access Katerina's more personal records. "I can do that for you, you know," Lili complained gently. "I know," he replied absently as he dug into the young woman's family history. 

"What are you looking for?" Jarod crossed his arms across his chest and frowned at the computer. "I've noticed, over the past four years, once the Taelons implant someone, their families have a way of ... disappearing." His voice deepened with disapproval. "But this young lady appears to have no family."

"She's an orphan?" Lili's voice was tinged with pity. "A complete orphan," Jarod confirmed. "No parents, and no grandparents, either." The image in the data stream rippled once and then again. "Damn!" exclaimed the Pretender, calling up the display parameters. Everything looked fine, but the holographic picture continued to degrade and return. "Lili! Any idea what's causing that? Is it backlash from the hack?" Lili twisted around hurriedly as the ripples spread from the main data stream to her own. When she looked back at Jarod, her mouth was set. 

"I know exactly what it is. Augur!" she called. "You leave that alone this instant!" The ripples ceased immediately. A small figure appeared next to Holo-Lili. "Augur!" she scolded. "You should know better than to interfere with people's work. You apologize to Jarod immediately." Just at the edge of audibility, Jarod heard soft beeping noises. 

"What's going on?" he asked. Lili frowned. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "You know, he's just really learning to talk, and all. It sounds like he found something in your download." Jarod glared at the main console, daring it to claim responsibility. "Wait, I think I've found something." A sequence of code was superimposed over the implant's image. Jarod squinted at the code, then leaned back, eyes wide. "Humph!" he grunted happily. "Code patch!" Lili announced triumphantly. "And a good one. But not as good as my Augur's. Did you ever check into the background we made for-"

"Lili," Jarod gently cut in. "-Major-" she continued. 

"Lili," he repeated. She stopped immediately. "Do you have a program to crack it?"

"Do I? Just what kind of hacker's moll do you think I am? Of course I do." She hummed softly to herself.

"Lili!"

"What?"

"Are you running the program?"

"Even as we speak, substitute master!" She winked outrageously. Jarod smiled in spite of himself. If the real Lili Marquette had even half the spunk of her doppleganger, she must be a real treat to know. A chime dinged. "Done!" she caroled. The data in his display vanished, supplanted by the information uncovered by Augur's computer. He scanned it as rapidly as it appeared, shocked by the discrepancies between his initial stolen information and the cache that at least two different hackers had sought to hide. Only fifteen, not eighteen. Suspected of Liberation involvement. And a mother still living. Stephanie Lynn Reidbrecht. He called up the mother's information immediately, and staggered back a step as he gazed into the face of the dead.

__

Cleveland, Ohio

May, 1998

Jarod checked his reflection in the glass window of the storefront campaign office. Jacket, good quality originally, but shabby with wear; shirt, white, button-down collar, first two buttons open; satchel, butternut brown leather, broken-in. He pushed open the door, carefully avoiding the cardboard and duct tape that held the broken glass in place. The door had been smashed open last night, precursor to an attack that seemed racist in origin, although Jarod had his own suspicions, of course. 

"Can I help you?" a young man, arms full of envelopes, asked him. "Yes," he replied, putting on his best friendly, open look. "I'm looking for the campaign manager?" "She's in the back," the youth gestured towards a pair of cubicles. Jarod followed his directions, intensely aware of the pair of eyes focused on his butt. He shrugged. That was why he'd worn these pants, after all. 

Only one of the cubicles was occupied. He cleared his throat gently to announce his presence. "And Dawson makes thirty," she mumbled, making a tick-mark on the page in front of her. "Yes?" she looked up. "Hi, I'm Jarod Bernstein." He moved forward, hand held out. She didn't move. "I'm answering your posting-for a speech-writer?" He dug the photocopy out of the satchel and held it forward. "Oh, of course." She stood and shook his hand. "Please, sit," she indicated the chair in front of the desk.

"I brought a resume," and he passed another sheet of paper to her. Even after three years on the outside, he still took pride in a well-faked dossier. Just the right amount of padding. At first, he'd tended to go overboard, be the best at everything, but now he was more interested in tweaking the format to match exactly the level of his Pretend. This one was, he figured, nearly perfect.

She glanced at it, and threw it in the garbage.

At the dumbfounded look on his face, she smiled, and it was like the sun rising. "Mr. Bernstein, in this campaign we don't care about what you did. What matters is what you can do. And what I need is someone who can write a speech for Elsie that sounds like she wrote it herself. Can you handle that?" He looked at her uncertainly for a moment, then nodded. 

***

The campaign office was filled with people. And balloons, streamers, and confetti. The volume level was set for party, full swing. Jarod edged his way through the crowd, looking for her-and then there she was, smiling the same radiant smile she'd given him just before he'd written his first speech for Elsie. "Jarod!" she exclaimed. "Have you got a drink?" He lifted the plastic flute in his right hand in reply. "And you?" he asked. She held up her own glass, and he tapped hers with his in a toast. "Congratulations, Miss Marshall, on an excellent campaign." 

"Well, I'm not ashamed to admit that we owe a lot of the success to you, my friend. You are one heck of a speechwriter-you really captured Elsie perfectly, y'know?" He made a humble noise. "Don't play bashful with me, Jarod Bernstein," she scolded, eyes bright with mischief. "You know you're good." He shook his head. "I'm not good," he said with false modesty. "I'm the best!" She was suddenly serious. "You are the best, Jarod. Why don't you come to Washington with us? Elsie can really go places, with you on the team." 

He could see she regretted the invitation as soon as she made it-it wasn't the first time she'd asked, and he'd refused her that time as well. No matter how much he might long to stay in one place, dream about a life just like everyone else's, he knew he couldn't have it. Not while the Centre was after their prize specimen. "I'm sorry," she said. "I know you have your reasons, and it's not my place to push you into something you don't want." She put her glass on the table behind her. "Care to walk me home?" He looked around the party in surprise. "Oh, these guys'll be going until the wee hours, and I've got an office in Congress to start organizing tomorrow. C'mon." 

They grabbed their coats and slowly meandered over to her apartment. The late May air was perfumed with apple blossoms from the park nearby; the full moon cast shadows ahead of them. He didn't ever want it to end, but all too soon they were standing in the hall of her building, outside her apartment. "Well, this is it, I guess." She looked up at him pensively. "Um, thanks." A sad smile curved her mouth. He stood there, immobilized by conflicting desires, exquisitely trained mind firing off a myriad of possibilities. In the end, he settled on the simplest, cupping her jaw gently in his hands and kissing her softly and thoroughly. 

"Jarod!" she breathed as the kiss ended, all sorrow dispelled. She pulled back, her eyes wide, pale blue irises all but obscured by black pupil. They tracked across his face in wonderment. "Stay," she said. "What?" he asked, not daring to believe his ears. "Stay," she repeated. "I mean, I have a couch if-" Her voice trailed off, but her mouth stayed open, as if it knew something her brain did not. "I have to leave tomorrow." It needed to be said, though it hurt him to remind her of it. "I know. Stay. Just for tonight." The clinical, cynical voice in the back of his head noted that her respiration rate was elevated and there seemed to be increased blood flow to her face. He told it to shut up, and kissed her again. It noted comparable changes in his own body. "I don't want to sleep on the couch," he whispered mournfully into her ear. She twisted in his arms to unlock the door, then pulled him inside. "Good. Neither did I," she responded as the door swung shut behind them.

__

***

Newstreet, Maine

September 1998

Jarod drove up the residential street in increasing alarm. A cluster of red flashing lights blocked the road just ahead-police, ambulance, fire. A full squadron of emergency services. He pulled the car over and continued on foot, fear nagging him at every step. He glanced at the house numbers as he ran by-forty, thirty-six, thirty-four, thirty-two. That's where the supervisor's wagon was parked, and where the police began keeping the curious at bay. He shoved his way through the crowd, determined to get to the house _("I really need to see you. Have you been alright?" she asked.)_. An arm appeared in front of him; he glared at its owner. "I'm sorry, sir," the officer apologized. "It's not safe. You need to stay back." 

"Which house is involved?" he demanded, pushing forward, searching desperately through the drifts of smoke and darkness _("Pick me up at seven, 26 Hawthorne")_. "Sir!" the officer reprimanded him. "You can't go in there!" Jarod briefly contemplated tempting fate with a charge of assault and battery. _("I thought you had to leave." "I do," he'd replied. "For now. But I want to see you again.")_ Pity, or fear, prompted the man to offer "It's three houses, actually. Started in number twenty-six and spread to both sides. Sergeant Singh has more information." The arm pointed to Jarod's left, to the middle of the street, where a tall officer in a turban stood in the midst of men and women in assorted nightwear. _("Stay.")_ His feet automatically moved in the direction of the arm; the rest of him was just along for the ride. 

"But what about the Marshalls?" demanded a querulous, elderly voice. "They live in twenty-six. Frank and Claudia. Did they get out?" The police officer answered patiently. "I'm sorry. The fire department is doing the best job they can." "But the ambulance has been here since the beginning!" "They can't have found anyone!" "Maybe they were out?" "Wasn't their daughter home for the weekend?" "Maybe they went out to dinner?" A firefighter came jogging out of the haze; a paramedic stepped up to meet him. "Anything?" The first man shook his head. "Looks like a job for the fire marshal, bud. Anybody left in there by now, well..." Jarod kept walking.

The next morning it was the banner headline in the local paper. LOCAL TRAGEDY-FAMILY OF THREE DEAD IN FIRE. 'Long time Newstreet residents, Frank and Claudia Marshall, were killed in a fire of unknown origin that swept through their Hawthorne Street home late last evening. Also killed was the couple's daughter, Stephanie Marshall, currently assistant to Congresswoman Elsie Wayans of Cleveland, Ohio.' 

__

***

"Jarod?" The gentle query finally penetrated his reverie. He forced his attention back to the present, and back to the face of a person he'd thought was dead for the past sixteen years. Oh, the last name was different (had she married?) and the biographical information didn't match (no doubt a little hacking on the part of Holo-Lili would break that down), but the face, the eyes, and, he had no doubt, the smile, were hers. For a brief moment, he entertained the possibility that it was just the face, that it, along with the biography, had been purchased from some top-notch identity broker, but as he regarded the picture of Stephanie Reidbrecht, mother to Katerina Emily Reidbrecht, Taelon implant, he knew she was the same Stephanie Marshall he'd known all those years ago. And her daughter carried the Pretender gene.

Her daughter. And his.

TO BE CONTINUED

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Note #2: See, and this is the tricky part … I've started part two, but haven't finished … only your reviews can give me the strength to carry on … and besides, don't you know that remaining too long in one position can cause repetitive stress injuries? Or was that bloodclots? Anyway, get those fingers moving! It's good for you, I promise!


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